Respect is Love: Astoria and Draco
by NectarAndAmbrosia
Summary: We see Asteria just the once at the platform with Draco and Scorpius, with no mention of how she came to love and be loved by the most pitied/adored antagonist of all Potterverse. She was two years younger, virtually unknown to us...and what about Pansy?
1. On the Hogwarts Express with Dementors

Disclaimer: _All epic fails are mine. Everything else belongs to a certain genius who declined to tell us even Asteria Greengrass's name in the epilogue, let alone mention how, when, where, and why she met Draco Malfoy, or what happened in all those missing years that led them to where they stood together with their son at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters._

* * *

**On the Hogwarts Express with Dementors**

September 1, 1993.

The first-year girl dragged her ridiculously heavy trunk and owl cage behind her at an excruciatingly slow pace. She paused momentarily in the gently swaying corridor of the Hogwarts Express, taking time to smooth out her pale blonde hair and catch her breath. "Where is she?" she complained unhappily, searching the various people in the compartment windows for her sister.

Asteria could see a group of Ravenclaw fifth-years gathered in one, exclaiming over a particularly difficult game of Exploding Snap. To her left, several Slytherin seventh-years were sprawled all over each other, filling up practically the entire compartment. The girl looked away, turning up her chin haughtily as she tried to ignore their jeering.

She finally managed to tug her things down to the next segment of compartments, exasperated at her older sister. Daphne had convinced an excited Asteria that she would take all her stuff down to where Mum was waiting by the train, but had accidentally forgotten her sister's new Great Gray owl, Morpheus. Then, as Asteria waited in anxiety while her parents searched all over the platform for Morpheus, Daphne had rushed onto the train to join friends, calling that she would find her sister when she came on.

"Liar," she said sullenly, unable to spot Daphne's tell-tale bright hair anywhere so far. "I bet you forgot Morpheus on purpose just so you could ditch me." Asteria gazed around a little helplessly, deciding to give up on finding Daphne and her friends. She started pulling her cargo again, this time only looking for a compartment that wasn't completely occupied.

There was one partially filled by a gang of madly giggling fourth-year girls, a half-empty one where several students screamed at each other at the top of their lungs, and another where a couple was pressed against the window, struggling to lick up the other's face.

Asteria was chilled by the thought of intruding on them, but her hands had begun to develop nasty red spots from clutching such heavy metal handles and her entire back was aching horribly. Hoping that they wouldn't noticed her quiet entrance, she slid open the compartment door as silently as it could (it squeaked, to her dismay) and slipped in as gracefully as she could, though she almost tripped over her over-heavy trunk. Morpheus gave a hoot of protest.

"Go on," she said courteously, when they stopped to stare at her accusingly. "I just came in because I couldn't find anywhere else, er, suitable enough." She tried to hide her awkwardness by smiling brightly and gazing at the monotonous landscape flying by outside.

The sixth-year boy glared at her nevertheless, with his girlfriend giving a sigh of irritation. "Do you mind?" he asked crossly. "That was rather rude, you know, just barging in on people like that. Just who do you think you are anyway?"

Asteria, flustered, tried to raise her chin up proudly. "I'm Asteria Greengrass," she informed him coldly, watching the couple for signs of recognition. When they did not react to her surname, she realized with a slight shock that they must be Muggle-borns; the Greengrass family was widely known to be one of the oldest and richest pure-blood lines in Britain…Obviously.

The boy gave a strangled yelp of helplessness and he rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're another one of those pure-blood bigots," he said disgustedly. "Always thinking that the sound of your name'll send people scurrying, aren't you? And that was a rhetorical question, by the way, since you obviously couldn't recognize it..."

Asteria flushed a little. "Well, apparently you didn't recognize my rhetorical answer to your rhetorical question, then," she responded in as a cool of a voice as she could manage. "But I guess if you don't understand the significance of my name, you should still remember that this compartment doesn't belong to you. This is a public train."

And you think I want to watch you two snog? she thought helplessly. I did try to be nice, didn't I?

"Damon, come on, let's just get out of here," snapped the sixth-year girl angrily. "We can find another compartment." Both shooting Asteria annoyed looks, they crossed out of the room and into the corridor.

As they left, she heard an unfamiliar drawling voice approaching outside. "Are you sure she didn't just fall off the train?" There was the sound of many footsteps drawing close, and suddenly, the compartment door slid open again.

Asteria jumped, feeling a little embarrassed when a large gang of third-year Slytherins strolled in, her sister Daphne among them. "Oh, hi, Daphne," she said, feeling heat rushing up to her face. "I couldn't find you. Mum told me that you'd find me, but when I looked through all the compartments, you weren't there in any of them."

The third-years all took a seat, and very soon the compartment was cozily filled. There was a pug-faced girl (who looked, from her dress, to come from a family at least as wealthy as Asteria's) sitting next to her sister, looking as if she was some beauty queen. Around her sat four other girls, including Asteria's tall, blonde-haired sister, a slim, distasteful-looking girl with shiny dark hair, someone else who was strong and forcefully built, and a simpering, rather plain-looking companion who was, Asteria noted anxiously, resting her feet on Morpheus's cage.

"So this is your sister, Greengrass?" questioned one of the boys who had just entered. Asteria recognized his voice as the one who spoke earlier about her falling off the train and nodded warily while Daphne replied in a cheerful voice, "Can't you see the resemblance, Malfoy?"

Malfoy shifted in his seat and spread himself out lazily over several seats, while the pug-faced girl gasped with delight at his forearm brushing hers in the process. Asteria tried to pretend she didn't see this, and instead focused on him and his company. Daphne had often written home about the people in her year, and it was no surprise that she had mentioned Draco Malfoy at least several times. His family, after all, was well-respected and probably bathed in Galleons each day, also being one of the most influential pure-blood families, one that could be traced back for ages.

Draco Malfoy had a thoughtful expression on his pale, pointed face, his cool gray eyes looking Asteria over in a manner that made her feel as if she was being appraised. His sleek white blonde hair was well groomed, and his robes looked more finely made than the boys' around him. Asteria had the impression that he was not really interested in her as a person, but merely curious to see his classmate's younger sister. "Asteria, is it?" he offered smoothly. "Nice to meet you. My father says that your family is a good friend of ours. But then again, all pure-blood families are associated with each other, aren't they?"

Another rhetorical question, Asteria realized shrewdly. Fishing for agreements…and she doubted that returning a "rhetorical answer" to Draco Malfoy would benefit her very well. Especially not if she was going to Sorted into Slytherin with him and his Housemates. Which she probably would be. "Pity there couldn't be more of them instead of all those Muggle-borns," she replied in what she hoped was a light voice, smiling anxiously.

There was a faint chorus of sniggers around the compartment, and Asteria took it, from Daphne's wink, that it was a good thing. She breathed out in relief, and saw her sister's pug-faced friend smirk in approval. The same girl also seemed to be leading the others.

"Well, I'll be off," announced Malfoy suddenly, standing up in a dramatic fashion. "Crabbe, Goyle?" He turned to two large, hulking boys besides him who were grinning a little stupidly. "Care to take a stroll outside?"

Crabbe and Goyle stood up as well, grunting, and clambered rather slowly after an impatiently waiting Malfoy. They pushed open the compartment door and disappeared outside.

"He's off to terrorize Potter again, then?" asked the dark-haired girl, peering towards the entrance curiously.

"Of course," said the pug-faced girl smugly, crossing her arms. "Draco told me he would. I wonder if he'll be okay," she added anxiously.

"He's got Crabbe and Goyle, hasn't he?" suggested Daphne, who motioned for Asteria to sit closer to her in Crabbe's recently vacated seat. "And knowing Potter, I doubt he'll try anything with Draco. You have to calm down, Pansy."

"Wait…" Asteria sat up straighter, feeling a disbelieving tingle of surprise. "Potter? You're talking about Harry Potter?" she asked, trying to conceal her excitement. She had grown up hearing his name nearly all her life and seen his name in textbooks about the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake.

"Obviously." The girl who was Pansy was beginning to eye Asteria with disdain. "But I'd stay away from him. Haven't your parents told you how much of a prat he is? Or your sister?" She shot an interrogative and slightly accusing look at Daphne, who raised an eyebrow.

"He's not all that great, Asteria," she explained quickly, rolling her eyes and leaning forward. "We all know he's famous and all that, but do you know who he hangs out with? Mudbloods," she said firmly, causing Asteria to flick her eyes around the compartment warily. "No, they're not listening. Don't worry. And Ronald Weasley. You know Weasley?"

Of course she knew about the Weasleys. They were a common joke in the higher offices at the Ministry, from what Asteria had heard her father say at home. Arthur Weasley was somewhat of a Muggle-lover, and that hadn't helped his career very much. Or his salary. The Weasleys were pure-blood, of course, but from the way they lived –with seven children and a handful of Knuts in a rickety old house- they didn't get taken very seriously. Asteria was not surprised. She nodded, eyes gleaming.

"Oh, and he's in Gryffindor," delivered the plain-looking girl in the corner. Strangely enough, she glanced quickly at Pansy as she said this, as if seeking permission.

"I see," said Asteria slowly, who felt rather amused and disappointed at the same time. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were her last choices. Obviously she wanted Slytherin. "So he's trying to show everyone how noble and good he is?" As soon as she said this, Asteria began to regret this. Realizing guiltily that since one couldn't choose his own House –as far as she knew- Asteria wondered if Potter had been thrown into Gryffindor against his wishes. Perhaps something like that could happen to her as well…

The girls all laughed at her comment, however, and in Pansy's case –Asteria winced- shrieked loudly. It was common knowledge that Slytherin House had a shadowy reputation for turning out shady figures and Dark wizards, but that hadn't stopped Asteria from placing it as her first choice for a House. It was where their entire family had been in, almost a proud tradition, and it certainly helped that Daphne was there as well.

The values prized by Slytherin appealed to Asteria as well –cool-headedness (she knew she had that), a thirst for success (she cringed just to remember the toothless old woman who had proudly proclaimed that her life ambition had been to produce as many children as possible…what was she? A Weasley?), cleverness (this worried her a little, but Mum had assured her that she would do fine), determination (Asteria was determined to make Slytherin, that was for sure), and perhaps even caution and subtlety. She fidgeted, wondering darkly what would happen if she ended up in some other House.

"All Gryffindors are like that," simpered Pansy now, as if addressing a two-year-old. "You won't be in that House, will you?"

Feeling that she would be shunned by all Slytherin society if she did not agree to Pansy's ridiculous question, Asteria inclined her head politely. "I hope I can be a Slytherin like you," she said half-heartedly, attempting flattery. She had the feeling that Pansy was a flattery-loving kind of person.

"Oh," she replied, drawing back a little surprised, but clearly pleased. "Thank you. That's nice." Then abruptly she paused, watching the thickset, stony-faced girl sitting next to Daphne. "Millicent, you wouldn't have a copy of Witch Weekly with you, would you?"

Millicent gave a noncommittal jerk of her head and produced a glossy, thin magazine that Asteria recognized as this week's issue; Daphne's room at home was littered with various witch's beauty and gossip magazines. She herself read them as well, but didn't like to make that public. It was a slightly embarrassing thing to be seen reading something as girly as Witch Weekly in front of even her parents, who considered Asteria to be more of an "observant and mature young lady".

The rest of the train ride passed more enjoyably for everyone, while Pansy and Daphne (mainly Pansy though) led a discussion on the beauty tricks the Weird Sisters (a band that the girls greatly appreciated) must have used on their last tour, which morphed into a giggling fit about the acne of a certain Eloise Midgen (Asteria gave a strained half-laugh and brushed her clear skin self-consciously), and then (to Asteria's great curiosity), as if it was inevitable, Draco Malfoy.

"And when is he coming back anyway? I thought he would," pressed the dark-haired girl eagerly, who had been introduced as Lilith Moon.

Pansy had begun to beam almost uncontrollably. "Oh, Draco?" she squealed excitedly, blushing a little. "I hope he does. He should," she added in a higher voice. "He told me that he, Crabbe, and Goyle would try to find Blaise and Theodore and come back with us to the castle."

"Blaise and Theo are coming?" questioned Daphne, looking slightly haughty that she had not been informed.

"Yes!" confirmed Pansy, very close to breaking in giggles. "Although Theo might not want to come. He always sulks up there alone, you know him. But I hope Draco can…"

And they rambled on about Draco. Within five minutes, Asteria's head was overflowing with the most flattering adjectives on earth, none of which she dared to take seriously in case she ended up forming a completely inaccurate impression of someone she had barely even met.

Later though, Asteria had different problems. "Is anyone hungry?" she asked as business-like as she could without sounding arrogant. As Mum had dryly pointed out, it was embarrassing enough to have to admit to hunger without further incriminating yourself with an overly devastated tone.

Five pairs of genuinely surprised eyes turned on her, with Daphne's being bright and wryly amused as well. "The witch pushing the food cart could be here any moment," she comforted her sister. "She always does when we're almost halfway there."

"But we can find her and buy stuff as she goes, can't we?" Asteria asked more desperately, trying to slide off the raised eyebrows of Pansy's gang of girls. When Daphne merely nodded an exasperated 'yes', Asteria immediately scooped some round, shiny Galleons from her trunk into her pockets and left the compartment, breathing more freely when her back was pressed against the closed door, and she could finally search the train on her own.

When she had scoured the corridors for Daphne earlier, it had been with an exceptionally heavy trunk and a piteously shrieking owl. Now, however, with her hands empty and a seat to return to, Asteria relished her freedom, seeing the trip to the snack cart almost as an adventure…or at a potentially exciting exploration of the Hogwarts Express, at least. Asteria couldn't resist the evil grin that she knew was spreading over her face, and saw a cluster of Prefects patrolling the corridors whisper behind their hands wryly at her approach; she knew she must look like an overenthusiastic first-year, but this was all very well.

Asteria sauntered through the train, occasionally beaming into compartments at random people. Thankfully, she did not encounter the vigorously kissing couple she had clashed with earlier. There were more people, she noticed with interest, towards the other end of the train. Swarms of students roamed the corridors here, but most returned to their compartments almost immediately and did not linger. These people were mainly from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, from the looks of them. Despite what her sister had said before, Asteria briefly hoped to catch a glimpse of Harry Potter.

Though she did not see him, she did get a peek at some Weasleys. They looked quite obnoxious, she noted disdainfully. Two fourth-years with flaming red hair were seemingly taking turns tormenting a gradually reddening classmate, who was lunging for something. Asteria continued further down, and barely believing her luck, saw a friendly-looking, plump witch who was carefully wheeling a loaded cart of mouthwatering food between the compartments.

"Hello?" she said eagerly, lingering behind the cart. "Can I get something?"

"Of course, dear," replied the witch, looking shocked, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Take what you'd like."

Asteria handed over four Galleons, and walked away happily with a Pumpkin Pastry, some Knuts for change, and a large stock of Chocolate Frogs, which she carried in a small bag the witch had kindly provided. She walked on unhurriedly through the train, enjoying the cold, bittersweet chocolate until she was accosted by the sight of several excited-looking first-years coming from the opposite direction.

She choked in her Chocolate Frog's head in her haste to swallow it, and managed to smile weakly at them. Asteria tried not to cough and stood aside to allow them to pass.

Instead of passing, they remained where they were and annoyingly enough, beamed at her brightly, while Asteria coughed and grimaced. "Oh, hello!" said a boy with mousy brown hair nervously, stepping forward.

Asteria forced the remaining Frog down her throat and pushed her shoulders back in an attempt to regain some elegance in her posture. "Hi," she said, gasping for air.

"Er, that boy that just passed along here, was he related to you?" asked the boy curiously.

"Who…?" It took Asteria a quick second to realize he had to be referring to Draco Malfoy. "Was he with two other big, bulky guys?"

There were a few chuckles from the first-years and a girl with loose pigtails giggled. "So he was?" she pressed. "Because the way you were walking, you looked just like he did." She paused for half a moment. "Plus, you don't find that many people with a complexion that pale."

Asteria flushed slightly and unconsciously cast her eyes around the corridors, but no one was listening to them. "No, he's not," she said coolly, folding her arms haughtily. "That was Draco Malfoy, and I'm Asteria Greengrass. And I don't see what you mean by saying we…we walk alike." She wondered with a growing horror if she really swaggered so arrogantly.

"Ah, I see," said the boy who had first spoken almost apologetically. "I'm sorry. I just thought I recognized you. Well, since you introduced yourself, my name's Taylor Evans, and you probably wouldn't know me since my parents are both Muggles… yeah, and we were all really happy when I learned I could go to Hogwarts. I don't know a lot of wizarding folk, so right now I'm trying to go and meet as many people in my year as possible." He smiled hopefully. "Pleasant to meet you, Asteria."

Muggle-born? Asteria widened her eyes slightly but otherwise did not comment on his parentage. "Oh, you too," she returned graciously. He won't be in Slytherin, she thought with a faint roll of her eyes. The thought, for some unthinkable reason, suddenly struck her as immensely sad. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the train had lurched to a halt as well…

Asteria felt like choking with misery…but not because of this. She drew in a shuddering breath that was tainted with something vaguely gray in the air; it seemed that the air had dropped by several tens of degrees over a matter of seconds.

In fact, everything seemed colder now. She clutched her own wrist, and found that it was chillingly cold. She tried to smile, to pass it all off and avoid the terrible embarrassment that would follow if she kept up this behavior, but found that her heart wasn't in it.

Not only that, but her lips seemed to have frosted. They were stuck in their position, and Asteria seemed to have become just as rooted to the spot. She thought it would make a ridiculous spectacle, but no one laughed. In fact, what her new companions were doing could only be understated as weeping.

Taylor Evans, the first boy who had spoken, had begun to shake uncontrollably, a frightened expression that wasn't in his eyes before suddenly present.

The girl with pigtails had become rigid, and she too, started to tremble violently. Their friends, including a round-faced boy with freckles and another with stringy black hair, had also been overcome with the same symptoms. The one with a frightened round face that had been previously rosy was now horribly ashen and blanched.

"In here, quick," the pigtailed girl was now croaking, feebly pulling at a latch on the nearest train compartment. "Before-before the d-dementors…" Her shaking fingers succeeded in freeing the handle, and almost instinctively, the entire group huddled inside, the door falling closed after them with a click.

Asteria saw a cluster of second-year friends seated towards the windows, some burying their faces in their arms and moaning horribly. She shivered, feeling very alone and abandoned despite the compacted company sitting in the room.

A definite unmistakable gloom was oozing itself into the atmosphere slowly, quite giving them the feeling of being suffocated while the cold chills racketed on. In a compartment several segments down, someone screamed twice. Several in their own began to follow suit, and the girl had a wild impulse to join them.

The entire train had turned yet colder. She could swear that there was ice clinging to the glass of the windows as moss might cling to a tree. The ground she sat on now seemed to turn to a frozen surface. The air became even harder to breathe, and the chill lacerated your throat when you would care to inhale.

Even her tongue was dried. Asteria swallowed, cradling her knees to her chest, licking up the chocolate that had become plastering and thirst-spearing in her mouth.

It was terribly dry, but most shockingly enough- the barest tingle of warmth spread through her throat, and within seconds, her breathing had become much more relaxed as well. She felt, for what seemed like the first time in years, a glimmer of hope. Was it the chocolate?

Feverishly, Asteria groped for the bag of Chocolate Frogs at her feet, and nearly laughed in shaky relief when she located them. She raised one to her lips, quickly devouring it down. Feeling much better, she started on a second one before being overcome by a wash of …guilt.

Guilt won't help you, Asteria thought as firmly as she could while her teeth chattered viciously. All the same, she tentatively held out a wrapped Frog to the person next to her. To her dismay, the boy she offered the sweet to didn't even see her, and continued to stare at the windows in torment, quavering and gasping. Every other inhabitant sat at the other end near the windows, which had become colored a cold, morbid gray.

Why had the train stopped? Asteria vaguely remembered the other girl speaking about dementors. Dementors…that sounded familiar. Then, it fit. Asteria recalled asking her father about Azkaban. He had looked miffed at being interrupted while working on a Ministry report, but had kindly explained to his daughter, all the same, about the dementors: lifeless, hooded creatures that preyed on happiness and hope feeding the despair, misery, and hollowness in an area.

Asteria was able to laugh splutteringly when she remembered how Mr. Greengrass had tried to demonstrate some highly advanced charm that would ward them off, and had only produced a wisp of unimpressive, silvery material shaped like a four-legged creature.

Suddenly in the present world, something wolf-shaped, silver, and luminous charged down the main corridor outside, trailing shimmers of blinding white as it did. The shot of the light forced itself through the length of the Hogwarts Express –they could feel it- before floating off somewhere further down, undoubtedly melting into the newly lifted afternoon sky outside.

The entire train seemed to sit still for a heartbeat after that. No one seemed to be able to bring themselves to breathe until it gave a grating shudder and began to rumble in the familiar way it had done before.

Then the sunshine seemed to return through the windows, the students in the compartment began to sit up cautiously, and best of all, the Hogwarts Express belched smoke and began to clunk rapidly once more, resuming its progress towards the school.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, indeed, this is supposed to be her first encounter with Malfoy as I imagine it...neither all that interested in the other, and an intro of what I think Daphne and co. must have been like, her thoughts on dementors, etc. And I'd also imagine you'd want to leave a review, eh?


	2. Slytherin Pride

_A/N: Okay, the subject of Asteria's House, I realize, is "in debate". Some say Ravenclaw to make her less "tainted by evil" and some say Slytherin to give her a chance to rebel against that House, pure-blood beliefs, etc. I say...purely-_**

* * *

**

**Slytherin Pride**

_September 1, 1993. Evening._

Asteria thought that Hogwarts was breathtaking, but she was determined not to express that visibly. She had enough to worry about already without also having to stress about whether anyone might see her staring like an idiot. There was the Sorting, for one (it was also obviously the most important thing)...meeting her new dormmates, the coming classes, the Sorting... The thought itself was horrible enough to twist her stomach into knots, but it was also wonderful enough to make Asteria almost beam with anticipation. Almost. But not quite.

She smoothed her robes quickly, trying to hide her apprehension at being Sorted from the other three first-years huddled in the boat. She didn't have to, of course, due to the welcoming fact that they were too busy still gaping at the golden-lit towers of Hogwarts and forming silent words with their stunned lips. Asteria glanced at the shoreline as they drew nearer and nearer. She tried to lean against the swaying wood of the boat, feigning relaxation, but found that the movements of the tiny vessel made remaining in that position quite uncomfortable.

To her horror, just as she was about to stealthily straighten again, a boy with mousy brown hair turned towards her, beaming. "Isn't this great?" he squeaked excitedly, hardly able to keep still. "I wonder where I'll be Sorted when we get there." He glanced anxiously at the approaching land.

"Ah…" Asteria noted that it wouldn't seem very slick to detach her back from the edge of the boat now that all its inhabitants had turned away from the castle and were staring at her, awaiting her reply. "Where do you think you'll be Sorted?" she tried in a conversational voice. The very word of "Sort" almost made her jump in excitement, and Asteria had to scold herself silently to chill down.

To her mild amusement, the other students seemed to find her composed (though nastily abrasive against her skin) posture terribly impressive, and another boy attempted to recline against his end. A particularly rough wave bumped him forward unbecomingly, and Asteria hastily tried not to smirk; she didn't want to be asked for her family relations to Draco Malfoy again.

"I'll definitely be in Gryffindor," he said pompously, blushing all the same at his awkward inelegance. "My dad and everyone from my mum's side have been."

"Me too!" gasped the other girl in the corner, her face brightening. She sat up in anticipation. "Maybe we can be in the same House together!"

Asteria watched, half-exasperated and half-interested as the two smiled in wonder and exclaimed, "Gryffindor pride!"

She settled a little deeper into the boat's coarse surface, finding that sticking hard to it mitigated the irritation. "Well," she remarked smugly. "That's my third choice. I'm personally aiming for Slytherin." It really was too bad there was no one else in the boat who could high-five her and declare Slytherin pride, she thought nolstalgically.

Daphne had warned her about negative reactions, but her boat mates, if anything, only seemed curious.

"Why?" asked the mousy-haired boy, a quizzical expression on his face. He shrugged. "My dad said Slytherin had a bad reputation, so I hope I get put in Ravenclaw. He did, so…"

"Wait." Now the girl who had spoken earlier was eyeing him, looking intrigued. "You were saying that on the train. I've seen you before, I think."

A brief look of recognition flittered across his face. "Are you that Emma Reed?" he asked almost accusingly.

Emma Reed nodded grudgingly. "Then I guess you're that Chandler Hughes." She now turned to the Gryffindor-pride boy.

"You don't know me," he said quickly. "But I'm Wayne Forrester."

They now all turned expectantly to Asteria, who saw with a combination of panic and excitement that the four people in the boat before them were already starting to clamber out onto land.

"I would be Asteria Greengrass," she said loftily as the little prow of their boat bumped into the shore rocks. Together, the four first-years climbed out, taking care not to trip and fall back in the water. Asteria accidentally got the hem of her new school robes wet as she stepped out, recoiling with shock when she found that the water was not only cold, but bone-chillingly freezing. She wondered with a vague sense of mistrust if dementors were lurking around somewhere, guarding the entrances.

Calm down, she told herself sternly once again. Shaking her head, Asteria caught up with the rest of the trudging first-years, determined to make a good impression; being late would not look so nice.

Inside, Asteria could hear the thundering sounds of laughing, talking, and moving, scraping chairs. There was a little queue of first-years huddled in front of her, blocking the entrance hall effectively. Fortunately, she didn't have to remain outside for long; the remaining stragglers from the boats had joined them, and a strict-looking witch with a stony face and swishing robes motioned them all in.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she was explaining curtly. "I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I shall also act as part of your Sorting today. I shall call out your names in order, and when I do, you shall walk up to that stool right there and sit down…"

Asteria only half-listened afterwards as Professor McGonagall went into elaborate detail about dormitories, basic rules, Peeves the poltergeist, and the qualities and values of each House. She already knew them all by heart, of course. Gryffindors were meant to be brave, Ravenclaws smart, Hufflepuffs fair, and Slytherins ambitious. In other words, Gryffindors were suicidal wanna-be heroes, Ravenclaws were antisocial book-addicts, Hufflepuffs were wimpy goody-goodies, and Slytherin was the only House worth being put into. It wasn't like anyone actually _didn't_ know all that...her parents and sister had told her pretty much everything about the Houses already, and Asteria was more than fine with that.

But the old Sorting Hat seemed to romanticize the qualities of the other Houses, and Asteria, for a moment, almost felt sorry that she could not be in all four of them at once. But that feeling didn't last long, because just then, the roll-call list began unscrolling, and the Sorting began, bringing with it unvoiced feelings of nausea from the shuddering first-years seated before the eyes of the Great Hall.

"Baker, Sarah!" became a Hufflepuff, as did Taylor Evans and his entire gang of friends. Some time before that, an "Alexander, Bailey!" had become a Slytherin, a little after which "Alton, Ruben!" had joined her at the green and silver table.

Asteria tried everything to keep her composure. She smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from her new robes. She stroked an imaginary wand in her hands. She even tried laughing when someone was Sorted into Hufflepuff, although she soon found that the act garnered her a couple of dirty stares, and quickly stopped. It was making her enemies already, and Greengrasses never made enemies.

Finally, now exasperated, Asteria settled for gazing at the Slytherin table, the one she would hopefully be joining very soon tonight. Her sister was sitting beside Pansy Parkinson, who was giggling silently with her group of girls as Draco Malfoy mimed someone fainting with terror again and again. She didn't see why, as it was evidently arousing a lot of anger from the Gryffindor table, but perhaps Malfoy found himself invincible enough to survive Hogwarts with the bad feelings of an entire House. Or perhaps it was just funny, reasoned Asteria. He was certainly fishing out a lot of amused reactions from the rest of the Slytherins. She saw Crabbe and Goyle chuckling monotonously, and Zabini smiling grudgingly, as if afraid a laugh would wipe his handsome features off his face. Nott glanced over briefly from a couple of seats down and returned to watching the Sorting from where he was looking bored in his chair.

Asteria followed his gaze, curious as to what could possibly interest Nott more than the fainting spectacle that was entertaining so many of his Housemates, and saw, with a leap of concern that surprised her, Wayne Forrester trembling under the Sorting Hat. He was shaking from head to foot, and there was an expression of utter horror on his face.

Well, he won't make the courage House that way, thought Asteria irritably.

A second later, however, he somehow did, and looking quite jubilant indeed, Wayne skipped over to a cheering table draped with red and gold, glowing with his precious Gryffindor pride.

Asteria clapped politely with them, feeling quite hopeful that if someone like Wayne Forrester could be Sorted into Gryffindor, then someone like her could definitely have a pretty good chance of being put into Slytherin. Nevertheless, she couldn't suppress the nasty feelings that were welling up inside her stomach, because if Wayne had just been Sorted, didn't that mean the last of the "F" surnames were over? And that she might be called soon...?

Of course it did.

"Greengrass, Asteria!" called the voice of Professor McGonagall, sounding as formal as ever.

She let out a shaky breath, and smoothed her robes out one more time just to be sure there really were no wrinkles. Asteria stood up slowly, not naive enough to believe that every eye in the Great Hall was really going to be on her, but also not confident enough of the complete lack of pressure. Most of the older students had begun to be bored, she couldn't help but observe as she neared the rickety stool in the center of the room. Obviously they had seen more than enough Sortings in their lifetime to disqualify the yearly event as a wondrous event of great importance, and were more intent of getting it over with. Asteria had to agree with them there as she dropped the hat onto her head, feeling apprehensive.

Why, another Greengrass, exclaimed a clear little voice from somewhere above her head. It seemed to be coming from the Hat, just as Daphne had described it to her.

Asteria nodded cautiously, making sure to keep that clear. All Greengrasses were in Slytherin. As in, _all_ of them. There wasn't a single Greengrass that had not been in Slytherin, and she hoped the Sorting Hat would remember that fact as it searched her...

But you could do great in Hufflepuff, it informed her promptly. Asteria had a nasty feeling that it had found her fear of being placed in Hufflepuff as it continued, sounding both incredibly wise and gleeful at the same time. Yes, indeed, you could. I told that to your sister too, you know. She rejected that idea though.

Ah. Asteria thought furiously, wondering why her Slytherin cleverness was leaving her feeling horror-struck and idea-less. _But I would make a much better Slytherin,_ she objected_. I have self-control, I think before I act, and I do have ambitions. Oh, and not just to be some trophy wife or whatever,_ she added hastily as she imagined the Sorting Hat raising a sarcastic eyebrow._ That's for other pure-blood girls who aren't Greengrasses. Um, I'm cunning enough to-_

She could swear the Sorting Hat was laughing merrily. That's right, it wheezed. You don't need to flatter yourself anymore. I can see everything, you know. Much more than you can, at any rate... It's been almost half a minute, and I don't think we should drag this thing on any longer, do you? You're a rather unmistakable kind of person from your House, and I think we can both agree that you can belong only in-

And before Asteria could think or say anything else, the Hat had bellowed out loudly enough for the entire Hall to hear, "SLYTHERIN!" and the next thing she knew, she was whipping it gratefully off her head and gliding ecstatically for the cheering Slytherin table, not remembering the last time she had felt so relieved.

* * *

_I know, I know. More edits. Oh, and in case it wasn't clear, she whips off the hat "with gratitude to it", not happy to be rid of it. Okay, well, maybe a little, but that wasn't my intention. And I had to add the part with the Sorting Hat being evil. Didn't you ever get that feeling when it messed around with Harry's head telling him he'd do great in Slytherin? No? Eh? Well, you're no fun...come on!...just pretend. And just review. Please. I'm serious about that._


	3. Draco Malfoy and his Sadly Broken Arm

_A/N: Hi, here's the third segment…I figured that since I had her Sorting here, I might as well get Asteria all settled in and introduce some new characters that could serve as her classmates. Pity JK couldn't give us those names, hm?_

* * *

**Draco Malfoy and his Sadly Broken Arm**

_September 1, 1993. Nighttime._

"She packed me a pink, _flowered_ one?" Asteria said disgustedly as she held a rose-colored nightgown between two fingers. She was in the Slytherin girls' dormitories with only her trunk and a sleeping Morpheus (all of which, to her approval, had already been taken up, no doubt by the school house elves), as everyone else in her year was evidently still down in the common room. She didn't blame them; the place was amazing, but it did make more sense to get to sleep early tonight. She could see the dungeons all she liked to in the following months here, and besides, her new quarters weren't too bad themselves either. In fact, they could even be classified as luxurious if Asteria had never lived at her family's estate before.

Just as she had fished out and changed into a less four-year-old-girl-looking cornflower blue garment, the door swung open, and a cluster of four girls strolled in, all of them practically recoiling with shock when they saw Asteria.

There was a moment of silence, then a girl with neatly combed brown hair let out a groan of exasperation.

"You were here the whole time?" she said in a shocked tone. When Asteria's pale eyebrows shot up in sarcastic confirmation, she sighed huffily and plopped herself down on her own bed, the other three girls watching the scene curiously. "We were looking all over for you," she explained accusingly, throwing up her hands to empathize. "And I'm Bailey Alexander, by the way. I was trying to get acquainted with everyone in our year. The boys are all holed up in their dormitories, but these are going to be our classmates. This is Helen Fairwater-" Bailey gestured at a slight, short girl who looked miffed that she had to be introduced by someone else. "Nadine Sanders-" Nadine scowled but raised a hand in acknowledgment. "And here's Cora White." Cora was a girl with shoulder-length black hair who regarded Asteria with mild interest.

"I'm Asteria-"

"Greengrass, I know," finished Bailey in an annoyingly louder-than-necessary voice. "I met your sister down in the common room."

"Oh." Asteria was beginning to think that maybe Hogwarts was not going to be so fun after all. "I wish I had met you earlier as well," she lied flatteringly.

However, this did not mollify Bailey, as Asteria had hoped. On the contrary, she brightened scarily and continued into an enthusiastic rant about her hopes for the school year, her aims to be Prefect in her fifth year, and the acquaintances she wished to become better associated with.

Only the Slytherin rationality and friends-with-eventual-benefits argument kept Asteria from trying out the curse Daphne had showed her on the platform. Instead, she listened drowsily as the other girl chattered off into a self-propelled discussion about all the subjects she planned to take in her third year. Behind Bailey's animatedly nodding head, Asteria noticed Nadine Sanders having taken advantage of her roommate's momentary distraction; she pulled the covers up to her chin, smirking at Asteria's misfortune. Helen Fairwater and Cora White had done the same, and were now feigning sleep in case Bailey looked around.

She had now moved into a gushing description of all the second-years she had befriended ("Ahh..." Asteria mumbled and tried not to nod off.), the greenish light of the common room, and some of the third-years she had met outside-

"And oh my goodness," she was gushing. "Draco Malfoy actually asked for my name! Can you believe that? Draco Malfoy! And he was so hot, but anyway, I really want to start that levitating spell they were talking about-"

"Wait...?!" Asteria jerked fully awake now, staring at her classmate and trying not to at the same time. "Did you just call Malfoy attractive?" She couldn't help wondering why Bailey wasn't more shy with that information. But then again, she didn't seem like a very discreet kind of person, did she now...

But the other girl just beamed. "He's not just gorgeous," added Bailey with a giggle. "He's really funny too. Did you see his Potter imitations? They were so good!"

"Huh." Sure, Malfoy had been courteous and all on the train, and he did have a certain appeal, but all the same…Asteria felt a little uncomfortable listening to someone's deepest fancies. It was as if Draco Malfoy himself might suddenly swing open the door to their dormitories at any second and start strutting in. It was the same kind of feeling that made Asteria start jumping nervously whenever someone mentioned the word "Mudblood". It was practically begging to have something used against you.

To her shock, Bailey actually yawned at this point. "Just thinking about him makes me kind of drowsy," she explained with a roll of her eyes. "And we better get ready for tomorrow, when our classes start."

Asteria couldn't resist snickering behind her turned back. As if she was the one holding everyone up…

"What do you reckon Professor Lupin'll be like?" mused the quiet voice of Cora White from a few feet away.

"He seemed pretty nice," replied Helen thoughtfully.

"But that doesn't automatically make him a good teacher," said Nadine doubtfully. "I don't know, he looked pretty…" Her voice trailed off.

"Tattery?" said Asteria guiltily. He had seemed quite travel-worn and tired a few hours ago when Professor Dumbledore had introduced him.

"I don't know," Nadine answered again hesitantly. "Maybe he had to fight off something big before he got here. I saw him hauling a huge tank up to his office when we were coming up with the Prefects."

The five girls lay awake for some time, feeling both too feverish to sleep and too sleepy to stay awake. The skies outside the windows were black and starry by this time, hinting that the time was approaching midnight.

Then after a few minutes, Helen's voice mumbled, "And Professor Hagrid?"

"We don't have him this year," Nadine replied immediately.

"Strange," muttered Cora groggily. "Malfoy was just complaining about what an oaf he was…didn't Hagrid take us across the lake today?"

"Maybe Malfoy fell in his first year and Hagrid didn't fish him out," Asteria suggested. "He seems like a person who doesn't forget things."

Several voices chuckled, then Nadine yawned loudly. "I'm going to sleep," she snapped. After a momentary pause, she added, "For real."

Asteria smiled wearily, and found that after a few seconds, she had drifted off as well.

* * *

_September 2, 1993._

The classes, she found, were not as difficult as Daphne had led her to believe all summer. The teachers all liked her well enough, there was ample competition to keep things exciting, and not too much homework that would overwhelm her entire life.

She found Charms and Potions to be by far the most enjoyable hours. In Charms, Asteria appreciated how Professor Flitwick allowed a reasonably talkative atmosphere; it was a perfect time to catch up with her friends on work, news, and talk about the other students. Asteria had found Nadine Sanders and Helen Fairwater to be good companions; similar to Theodore Nott, she noted interestedly, Cora White seemed to prefer sitting and walking by herself. Bailey Alexander, on the other hand, generally found people skirting the other way when she came into view. Asteria still took care to extend her politeness; as her father had wryly pointed out, you could never know when you might need a favor. So the working environment in Charms was, all in all, very pleasant without losing the challenging feeling a good class should maintain.

Potions, taught by Professor Snape, held an altogether different mood. The first day she had hurried in, Asteria had chosen to sit in the front. She quickly selected a seat in one of the foremost desks, feeling anxious as Helen and Nadine slid in seats on either side of her.

"Good, those Gryffindors are sitting on the other side," commented Nadine, shooting detached glances at the other students filing in and avoiding the Slytherins. She fingered her wand, as if contemplating the best hex to use on some of them.

Asteria was thankful that she only said this quietly, and that Helen's giggles were soft as well. She spotted Wayne Forrester running in with a clutch of books and nodded indifferently towards him. Unfortunately, his face lit up upon recognizing her and waved enthusiastically. Next to her, Nadine was snorting at his eagerness.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for failing to be seated at the beginning of class," said a cold, silky voice from the door of the dungeons. A hush instantly fell upon students from both Houses as they watched the light from the open door flutter out with the soft click that closed the door. Asteria watched curiously with them, even craning her head to see Professor Snape better as he emerged from the shadows.

He was a thin, sallow man with heavy black hair hanging on either side of his face and a rather hooked nose. Striding swiftly to the middle of the classroom, Professor Snape swept his glittering black eyes almost contemptuously around at his open-mouthed students before moving to stand over a readied black cauldron.

"Cauldrons out and wands away," he said softly, eyes trailing around the room in what seemed almost a malicious way. "We will not be engaging in much foolish wand-waving or beginner's incantations in this class. Thick though you children undoubtedly are, I expect that you may still feel the urge to complain against this, as it obviously...ah, goes against your desired pleasures. Allow me to explain to you, however, that I am not here for your _pleasure_." The last work was spoken more savagely, and the potions master paused distastefully, as if trying to swallow down the word.

Snape began to pace slowly, circling the rapt dungeon like a vulture trapping in its prey. "Potion-making goes back many centuries,," he said only slightly louder. "to before even the time of the four founders, if your frivolous brains can wrap itself around that kind of time scale. There are children's beauty potions, dark wizards' death brews, and even those mixtures whose secrets are so shadowed that to this day, not even the greatest wizard dares to conceive it." Snape stopped walking, choosing to curl his lip slightly at this point. "But before you decide to embark on any of those great projects, I will tell you now that one failure to comply with my instructions could result in your immediate incineration at the hands of your own creation...no doubt the Ministry will be too pleased with this, but I am responsible, after all, only for your education...and that does not include preventing your self-caused deaths."

There was a general pulsing of silent horror as each and every student imagined a little, morose heap of gray dust.

"We will be starting a boil cure potion, as is the first lesson for all first-years," announced Snape suddenly. "Turn to the page…you'll find it in the index, and the ingredients are stored in the cupboard behind me. You will have the rest of the class time to complete your potion, and it will be your first mark of the year, as well as the groundwork I shall be judging you on…"

Asteria scrambled for her materials, thankful now that she had sat in the front. All around her, Gryffindor and Slytherin students alike were focusing determinedly on their brewing cauldrons, eyeing the stewed horned slugs suspiciously, and leafing through their textbook as if terribly rushed. She glanced at Helen nearby, who was concentrating on adding the right amount of a white, crushed powder to her measuring vial. To her right, Nadine was protectively curled around her workspace, eyes darting erratically for more ingredients. Across the room, everyone had already progressed to adding crushed snake fangs, with several people crying out in occasional disappointment as one thing or another slipped out of their hands.

She noted that every time an accident occurred at the Gryffindor end of the dungeon, Snape smiled particularly viciously and took care to express his unaffectionate sentiments towards the blushing first-year. This was all very well for the Slytherins, of course. And Asteria especially.

Once, a pink-faced boy peering into his cauldron leapt suddenly back, having accidentally singed his nose in the process. Nadine and Helen turned to watch, leaving their cauldrons idle. Asteria would have whirled to look as well, but the colored fume that rose from her friends' cauldrons after half an unattended minute hastened her to quickly begin taking hers off the fire, as the book had instructed.

"Your potions are changing color," she coughed as steam rose into her nostrils.

"What?" Helen turned around mildly, freezing for a moment before she gasped in horror and resumed her work. Nadine also scrambled to correct her mistake.

In the end, only Asteria and another sharp-faced Slytherin boy named Trent Rainer had managed to secure something close to the final result. The book had specified a deep blue tone right before it had neutralized, ready, for use. Hers had subtly swirled azure, turning a pale, bleached peach color at last.

Panting, the students stood back cautiously from their cauldrons as Snape approached each of them, curling his lip, raising a placid eyebrow, or sniffed its contents with sarcastic energy as he did. He passed Helen's potion now, eyeing its purple bubbles with disinterest that had mitigated since leaving the Gryffindors' desks, but was still laced with scorn. At Asteria's mixture, to her quietly increasing smugness, he merely cast a simple glance. Rainer's result received the same look.

"Tomorrow we shall test them with another potion I will announce," Snape declared as they scurried out at the bell. "You shall receive your rather pitiful results then as well."

Although she would not say it publicly, Potions was only enjoyable for Asteria because she was reasonably skilled at it, not as she told her friends, because she liked dealing with various sorts of plant and animal-derived ingredients (what else could she say?). Snape made the class basically an automatically sour experience, and the gloomy dungeons, added to his sadistic discouragements, only cast an aura of extra hopelessness upon the class. It rather reminded Asteria of being hooded up in the Hogwarts Express with dementors. But it was a challenge, and due to the fact that so few people could stand an hour of Potions without emerging grumbling and snapping, Asteria became even more keen on performing well daily and coming out of the dungeons with a cheerful mood. The fact that she was in Slytherin House also helped greatly, of course. She had seen Gryffindor students sulking out from Snape's classroom looking murderous only too many times.

Defense against the Dark Arts, like basically every other subject, was a complete different experience. Professor Lupin had them constantly holding their wands out and battling new Dark creatures, giving the entire class an energizing boost. He was also very nice, as Helen had predicted.

Meanwhile, as classes melded into a smooth routine, so did news about Sirius Black. Rumors were wildly circulating by this point, and Asteria's parents had written her and Daphne advising them to stay on good terms with everyone, and not to believe half the things the _Prophet_ came out with. It would do good to keep out of this; if Black was after Potter, don't make enemies by joining the taunts against him. People saw anit-Potter as pro-Black, and Greengrasses didn't want to be associated with a mass murderer. Just as well, don't speak in support of Potter; you never knew who could be pinned on Black's list for defending his target. Of course, Asteria thought it shamefully high flattery to assume that Sirius Black would actually care enough about her or Daphne to consider killing them, but she reassuringly replied to her mum and dad all the same that she would take care. After all, she always did. It was Daphne who was always the one voicing her opinions.

But no one voiced their opinions more loudly than Pansy Parkinson that week. Asteria had been in another class, and two years below the third-years, obviously, so she was just as stunned as her fellow classmates had been when they walked into the Slytherin common room at the end of one day and were met with the sounds of shrilly, accusing shouts.

"-oaf Hagrid just watched his animal do it!" Pansy Parkinson was now insisting madly, to the amusement of a gathering group of seventh-years. "In fact," she continued to rant, sounding abnormally like Bailey did when she hit an unstoppable topic, "I'll bet you anything that he actually told it to do it!"

"Do what?" asked Nadine disdainfully, wrinkling her nose in distaste at Pansy; it was common knowledge that she was the ringleader of the third-year girls, but after all, they didn't belong to that gang, and Pansy tended to annoy pretty much everyone anyway.

Helen shook her head, bewildered. Asteria frowned, listening intently as the pug-faced girl rambled on. To her surprise, Pansy actually did sound concerned.

"And then the-the hippogriff just launched itself onto Draco, and his arm got this huge gash, and then the blood started spurting out of it and he just collapsed and started bleeding everywhere…"

"But hippogriffs don't attack you unless you approach them rudely, which Hagrid should have warned them about, considering no one else got hurt," exclaimed the voice of Cora, who had caught up to them and was also goggling at the scene. At their questioning looks, she explained dryly, "I read it in your sister's _Monster_ book she left out the other day."

"That was such a waste of money," chortled Asteria, forgetting about their earlier discussion. "It ended up ripping half of its pages out before we even got to Platform nine and three-quarters…"

Unfortunately for her, Pansy Parkinson did not appreciate this. She spun around, glaring at the source of the laughter. "It's not funny!" she snapped. Several of the seventh-years sniggered, and she glowered at them now.

Montague muttered something to Flint, and the older students erupted in fresh bouts of laughter.

"It wasn't just a scratch!" Pansy was now protesting indignantly. "His whole arm was cut open! There was blood…"

Or so she said. Asteria had no plans whatsoever to visit some random student two years older than her just because his most loyal admirer claimed he was hurt, but she still found herself gloomily trailing after her sister as she and Tracey Davis chatted all the way up; the trip was supposedly to pacify Pansy and stay on agreeable terms with Malfoy, something she didn't doubt. Malfoy certainly seemed to make a huge deal out of this, and as for Pansy, she had visited at the first possible opportunity…she practically lived in there nowadays.

They climbed the staircase to the top of the hospital wing uneventfully, and arrived to the sounds of agonizing moaning that was apparently coming from Malfoy. Asteria heard Madame Pomfrey's voice gently scolding him to behave as she entered into the fluffy white room with Daphne and Tracey behind her.

What he had to endure, Asteria had no idea, although she did get a little idea of what he must have been going through when Madame Pomfrey shut the door behind her, and Malfoy sat up looking funnily satisfied for someone who had just been mortally injured.

He lazily sprawled himself over the length of the entire bed, his arm strangely independent from the sling it sat on. "So you've come to visit me on my deathbed, I suppose?" he snickered, showily propping his leg onto a nearby chair. When the girls politely smiled, his smirk broadened. "Father wasn't very pleased to learn of my condition," he bragged, looking very Malfoy-esque. "I wrote him last night, you know. That Hagrid had better watch his job if he wants to keep it..."

"What do you mean?" asked Daphne interestedly. She exchanged glances with Tracey at the speed of light. Even Asteria was intrigued.

"Oh, just that Father has a lot of influence in the Ministry and around...you know." Malfoy made a dismissive gesture, his smirk never fading. "I wouldn't be surprised if he could get that beast of Hagrid's removed for threatening my life." He sank deeper into the pillows and fluttered his eyes closed dramatically. "Executed, d'you know what I mean?"

"Well, he'd certainly deserve it!" said Tracey Davis stoutly, wrapping her fingers around Malfoy's purposely limp hand. "Imagine, leaving your arm all hurt and broken..."

"I know," said Malfoy smugly, as if he had just won the Order of Merlin. "Perhaps I won't even be able to use it for weeks. Who knows if it'll ever be the same again?"

"Potter and his friends didn't look too happy about that," shared Daphne casually.

This seemed to dampen Malfoy's mood, and he quickly scowled, easing his hands behind his white blonde head. "I suppose Potter's going to decide to come to his precious oaf friend's rescue," he said disgustedly. "Always thinking he's so special with his name and scar..."

"You have a scar too now, though," suggested Asteria, privately doubting it. She hastily plastered a concerned expression on her face as Malfoy narrowed his eyes and turned her way.

"Yeah," he sniggered, to her relief. "And it's deeper than his. And my name's better than his anyway…the company he keeps!" he suddenly complained in a loud voice. It was the familiar tone Malfoy used whenever he felt like defacing Potter, which, as Asteria had very quickly found out, was very often. "Who does he think he is, parading around the school with Weasley and that Mudblood?"

Asteria jerked unconsciously, scanning the room automatically.

"Well, what's with you, Greengrass?" asked his annoyed drawl. "You look like Potter around dementors." At this point, he looked as if suddenly blown over by a gust of inspiration, and began to mime someone fainting with terror once again.

All in all, it had been an eventful week. But what was even more unthinkable, the entire school became huddled in the Great Hall just a few days later, apparently after which Sirius Black had slashed up the portrait that guarded Gryffindor tower, having gotten past a hundred dementors and the protection of Hogwarts' ancient boundaries.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I never really figured out that worked. Oh, well. Feel up to a review? Because I hope you do. For your sake. If you know what I mean...(waves butcher knife suggestively)_


	4. A Very Black Night

_A/N: I present...the first major event. Oh snap..._

**

* * *

**

**A Very Black Night**

_Halloween night, 1993._

But Black forcing them all to sleep the night out of their dormitories wasn't all that bad. The students of the school wandering the cleared grounds of the Great Hall excitedly were taking it rather well, conversing in hushed voices and giggling nervously on occasion. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly at the front of the Hall, speaking rapidly to Dumbledore, who was nodding very seriously. Professor Snape skulked at the other end with a scowl painted on his face, and was occasionally barking at students who laughed about the situation. But again, the situation wasn't all that terrible.

"Asteria?" questioned a slightly squeaky voice from behind her. The girl turned curiously, grimacing as she almost tripped over a purple sleeping bag, and saw with genuine pleasure that Wayne Forester from Gryffindor was standing there, looking strained. "You've heard about Black, haven't you?"

"Well…" Asteria gestured dramatically around the Great Hall, amused by his form of conversation starter. "I think he's someone we're hiding from in here, see…"

Wayne raised an eyebrow, looking disgruntled. "Well," he said huffily. "I just wanted to say that I think it's scary how much he wants Harry. We should have made some extra protections for him, shouldn't we?" He seemed exceedingly nervous.

Asteria looked around her, and caught a glimpse of Potter speaking with a mixture of fear and anger to his two friends. "I don't think so," she said dismissively, flicking her gaze around once more towards Dumbledore, where he was lecturing the Head Boy and Girl. "Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing, doesn't he?"

"But the dementors didn't stop Black!" Wayne pointed out.

"It was the Ministry's idea, actually," Asteria informed him, remembering the Headmaster's speech on the first day. "I'm just surprised he wasn't stopped by all those old protection spells around the school." She looked past Wayne once more and saw to her delight, Emma Reed, Chandler Hughes, and two other Ravenclaws hurrying towards them.

"Hello," beamed Emma, looking out of breath. "We're spending the night here, did you just hear his talk? Yeah…" She nodded sagaciously and suddenly turned to Asteria. "Oh, and is Malfoy really hurt that bad? He looked pretty injured to me just back there."

"Ah…" Asteria could vaguely see Malfoy on the other side of the Hall, propped up mournfully against the wall and surrounded by a gaggle of first and second-years. She wanted to tell Emma that he was _most likely_ exaggerating his most likely nonexistent injury, but then again, that wouldn't be a very wise move if she wanted to emerge alive from the Slytherin common room again. So she settled for a rather lame, "He looks pretty injured to everyone."

"Hm." Chandler now furrowed his brow. "I think I heard a few Gryffindors saying that he faked it just to get Professor Hagrid in trouble." He turned hopefully to Wayne for confirmation.

"I heard Brown and Patil saying that he insulted Buckbeak –that's the hippogriff's name- after Hagrid told them all not to, and that Harry didn't act rude, and he even got to ride one!" boasted Wayne proudly at having gathered information.

"Potter?" Asteria asked coolly, folding her arms. If it was against Potter and Malfoy, she would side with her House. "And if Potter wants Professor Hagrid to keep his job, shouldn't he be doing more efficient things than whisper around how much better he is than other students?"

Emma began to look anxious. "It doesn't really matter," she said hurriedly, cutting in. "He'll get better and everyone can just be happy."

"Asteria!" Daphne pushed through the throngs of annoyed Hufflepuffs, trying to catch her breath without panting unbecomingly; the Greengrass sisters had a thing for appearing smooth and calm at all times. "Come on! Weasley says we all need to get a sleeping bag. You can stay with us over there." She reached her sister and jerked her head towards the same place where Malfoy was now examining one of Dumbledore's newly conjured purple sleeping bags.

"Weasley?"

"Head Boy," said Daphne abruptly, glancing at Emma, Chandler, and Wayne, who were trying to look uninterested in her sudden arrival. For a moment Asteria suspected that Daphne would loftily turn her chin up at them for being in other Houses, but to her great relief, her sister only nodded kindly towards them. "Reed, Hughes, and Forester, am I correct?" she asked, running her eyes over them.

They nodded warily, and Chandler blurted out, "Yeah."

Daphne smiled charmingly, and extended her hand towards each of them sweepingly. "Wonderful," she practically purred. "I've heard Asteria talk about you a lot; she thinks highly of you." She gave Chandler, especially, a look that suggested she might think highly of him as well.

Asteria could feel her sister radiating all her Daphne-charm and tried to keep a serene face at her friends' expressions. She had only spoken of them once, the evening of the boat ride at dinnertime. It was apparent that she didn't think much of her acquaintances from other Houses, but she wouldn't have dreamed that her sister would have cared to remember their names. But of course, she somehow had. And Asteria was pretty certain that Daphne enjoyed having first-year boys starry-eyed over her. Her amusement with the whole spectacle did not stop there.

"I'm Asteria's older sister," she said apologetically, as if this was all her fault. "I just thought that she'd be more comfortable over by my friends and I…you wouldn't like to join us over there, would you?" She added courteously.

Chandler gazed almost longingly towards the unofficial Slytherin section of the sleeping bag-spread Great Hall, looking a little cowed by the huge Montague-like older boys all the same. "Er, I-I said I'd stay with the people from my year over by the –the Ravenclaws," he stuttered. Next to him, Wayne was nodding nonstop, also looking a little disappointed. Emma seemed wistful as well, regarding Daphne with admiration.

"Pity," said Daphne swiftly, as if she had not expected the negative answer and then entwining her fingers around her sister's. "I'll just wish you a peaceful night's sleep then. Asteria? Come on; let's go find Pansy and Lil and everyone…"

Asteria's shoulders fell in annoyance at the mention of the pug-faced girl (she had never quite forgiven Pansy Parkinson for screeching in everybody's ear for the entire week of Malfoy's confinement in the hospital wing), but kept a neutral expression as she was led by her sister to the third-year Slytherin gathering. By this time, pretty much everyone had already snuggled into a warm, fluffy sleeping bag, and Asteria and Daphne were basically the only ones left stalking around the Great Hall besides the teachers and Head Boy and Girl.

It was rather unnerving for Asteria, but Daphne seemed to revel in the attention. She looked almost sorry by the time they reached the two empty spots between several Slytherin second-years and, Asteria was grateful to see, Cora White from her year.

"Get into your sleeping bags and sleep now!" Percy Weasley was shouting, striding importantly between rows of flinching students several yards away from them. A little while away, the Head Girl was looking less pompous and more nervous.

Asteria had already tucked herself into her sleeping bag by this time, and she frowned in annoyance at the Head Boy's bossiness, but closed her eyes nevertheless. It wasn't that she was sleepy, though...she didn't see how anyone could possibly be drowsy in these circumstances. There was this general air of _what next?_ all around her. So much expectancy and so much worries...

But the lights had fluttered out with a _poof_, and Dumbledore now gathered the Heads of Houses at the front of the Great Hall, discussing something in a low voice with them.

A hush had descended on the wide-eyed students, and the furtive whispering that had still sounded fell to a scant minimum. Everyone had, by this time, either fallen asleep, was in the process of falling asleep, vainly straining to hear the staff's words, or fretting over one thing or another.

Asteria inhaled steadily, and would have sounded like she was having fears about Sirius Black breaking in to anyone around her. But of course, that was not the thought on her mind. For the first time in many days, there was a calm, accepted peacefulness around her as her eyelids grew heavier. It was certainly lucky that she didn't have to drift off with Pansy Parkinson's shrilly voice echoing from the common room…Besides her, Cora turned lightly once and stayed still; everyone else had already started snoring softly.

The girl shifted her head again, taking care that her pale blonde hair did not become tangled on the cold floor... who knew _how_ it would look if she woke up in the morning as a frizzhead, after all. But Asteria only smiled at the mental image, snuggled deeper into the covers, and drifted off blissfully to sleep, unaware of the fears of three Gryffindor students lying awake and cold only a few paces away.

And so the students slept, the teachers searched, and outside, the dementors continued to prowl.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah... this is just supposed to be kind of a memorable moment in her first year, you know? I'd love a review too lol._


	5. Encounter on the Platform

_A/N: Soooo…I finally decided to chop time a bit. I think that without all those classes to keep the tension, I might as well insert some epic (not) wit in this chapter…which, apparently, is slightly longer…so yeah._

**

* * *

**

Encounter on the Platform

_June 10, 1993. Morning._

Finally, the end of the school year. They would be boarding the train in about a week, and so it would end her first year.

Asteria sighed mournfully, feeling rather sorry for herself as she dragged a comb through her morning hair. It had been fun, of course, and definitely exciting, what with the dementors, Black on the loose, and prank-Quidditch matches, but she could only be dismayed that there would be no more. Asteria examined her reflection sadly in the mirror, thinking. In fact, she had even spent Christmas at Hogwarts, after her father had written an uncharacteristically whiny letter about being overworked to death by the Ministry for some confidential, not-to-be-disclosed extreme project…

As the girl took a moment to glance around wistfully at the green and silver room, the door to the girls' dormitories was flung open, and it banged into the wall with a startling thump, causing Asteria to draw in her breath as she fumbled unintentionally with the comb.

Bailey's excited face was flushed with something that was making her eyes glint. She paused in the doorway to catch some air, looking very much as if she had crossed the length of the entire castle in several seconds. "Asteria," she panted, holding onto the door handle still for support. "Guess-guess what? It's Lupin!"

"I'm sorry?" Asteria stuffed the comb back into her pocket inconspicuously. "Professor Lupin?

"No, no!" Bailey waved her off. "Not anymore. He just resigned…just did it this morning. And guess what? You'll never guess, but he's a werewolf!"

For several moments, there was only puzzled silence as Asteria tried to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. "How do you know?" she demanded, looking up with all rules of calm courtesy forgotten. It seemed so far-fetched…although if you really considered it…every full moon…maybe that would explain his shabbiness and previous unemployment too…"No," she pronounced firmly. "How would you be sure that it's not an elaborate rumor?" She crossed her arms just for effect, but they were trembling.

Bailey laughed loudly. "What? Who'd want to spread a rumor about something like this?"

"Oh, I don't know," shot back Asteria sardonically, really not knowing. She wildly plucked several rapid guesses from the air. "Professor Snape, maybe? Or maybe himself trying to cause an uproar on the last day?" That would make him absolutely repulsive and loathed? Certainly not…

"No," replied Bailey firmly, standing upright by herself now. "Snape was the one who accidentally let the news out, but it's been true all along. Don't trust me, you can go down and see for yourself."

Her heart sank. "He's not down in the Great Hall, then, is he?" Asteria asked tiredly, thinking of people's fear of werewolves…of hers too, quite frankly. No doubt he would be forced to duck down somewhere while students scrambled to tattle to their parents this new piece of news. The gossiping prats…Asteria felt her heart sink for Lupin's misfortunes, even if he was a werewolf. It was a sorry situation indeed.

"In his office," announced Bailey triumphantly, crowing now that her roommate had accepted her tidings. "He's packing and getting ready to leave."

"Is he?" Asteria had a sudden inspiration. "Is anyone with him?"

"Some students are going to weep goodbye to him and say that they'll never have a better teacher than him…although if you ask me he was going to go anyway; I heard the Defense job is jinxed or something…I dunno…"

"I-I'll be right back," she said jerkily. "You can go down," she added, nodding back into the halls. Bailey, looking both suspicious and slightly affronted, backed down again into the common room downstairs.

Asteria waited anxiously for a minute before quickly hurried down into the nearly deserted common room, past the dungeon areas, and into one of the main halls she used every day to proceed to classes. Asteria vaguely wondered if she should be going where she was, but after checking to see that she was not being followed, she dashed along again, finally finishing, rather out of breath, outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Professor?" she called tentatively, raising her knuckles to knock. Before she could, the door was drawn open and the exhausted, prematurely lined face of Professor Lupin looked through the open sliver.

"Miss Greengrass?" he asked, scrutinizing her in a perplexed sort of way. "I was just packing," he called over his shoulder as he returned to his emptying desk, on which now sat cleaned and sadly unoccupied tanks. "I'll be done soon."

"Uh, n-no," she stammered, horrified at her own loss of composure. "I-I didn't want you to, uh, to go sooner, but I heard the-the rumor and I thought I might come here and speak to you…"

Lupin regarded her with faint interest over his huge pile of increasing papers. "Yes?" His tone had a note of wariness in it.

Asteria glanced around the room in exasperation; she actually didn't know what to say at the moment. "So…so it's true then?"

Professor Lupin sighed and ran his fingers through his graying hair. "I'm afraid so. I-I should have gone a long time ago, truthfully."

While she couldn't deny this, Asteria didn't like to see the teacher in such obvious discomfort. "Are you going to get a better job?" she asked unhappily, unable to prevent herself from sounding like a whining first-year.

"That would depend." Lupin gave a very forced smile and sat down in his shabby old chair. "It's quite difficult for werewolves to find honest occupations these days." His voice was bitter as he brushed dust off his ragged sleeve.

"Would you like some new robes?" she blurted out suddenly, feeling very sorry as she always did when she laid eyes on his outfits; her parents had gold, and she had always appreciated that, but at times like this she wouldn't mind having much less if others –like Professor Lupin- could get a little gold themselves.

"What?" he sounded startled, and Asteria squirmed in mortification. "Oh, no, I couldn't take anything from students," he said apologetically, smiling kindly. "And with luck there will be a nice well-paying job I can locate very soon anyway. But thank you…"

There came the sounds of pattering footsteps and mournful laments from the next hallway; a group of other well-wishers had obviously come to bid their teacher goodbye as well. No doubt most of them were closer to Lupin than she was. Like Potter, for one. She wondered frantically how her Housemates would take her coming down here; it would be all very sad to cut short the visit, but she suspected that there would be much more favored students from Gryffindor who could uninhibitedly speak words she couldn't bring herself to say without mutual awkwardness.

Asteria thought swiftly, wondering what would be the best way to get out of there discreetly; there would be a lot more students would be coming down to this office in the next few hours. "No, thank _you_," she finished importantly, relieved to find herself speaking naturally and in a manner that would have made Mr. Greengrass proud. "It was very considerate of you to take this position this year when Professor Dumbledore had trouble convincing anyone else to teach us, and your styles were very likable and efficient." She paused, trying to find the thought that was badgering her. "And I heard you were able to produce a…I believe, corporeal Patronus?"

At this point Lupin actually smiled a knowing, almost mysterious smile. "Ah, yes," he agreed, stacking several large volumes on, ironically, werewolves. "They can come in very real handy, can't they?" He seemed to be musing more to himself than her. "Patronuses," Lupin continued, "are very advanced charms, of course, and even very qualified adults may have trouble with them. But I doubt you'll be needing them." He looked even quite mischievous at this point, something novel. "I heard that with Sirius Black's escape last night, along with hippogriff the Ministry sentenced to death, the both the Ministry of Magic and the Headmaster thinks that it is only appropriate that they be moved back to Azkaban. After all, with Si-Black gone into hiding, there would be no more need for them to patrol the school."

Asteria froze, her fingers grasping the doorknob. "Black escaped?" she asked, aghast and yet feeling impressed in an odd sort of way. A rather shocked, guarded, and horrified sort of way, that was. Watching her former teacher nod in a strangely… almost happy sort of way, she nodded back in a last goodbye and quietly closed the door to slip back into the Great Hall away from the next group of mourners, torn between wanting to send Lupin a new set of robes anyway and wanting to hear more about last night's grand double escape.

The Slytherin girl ducked into a little broom cupboard on the side of a wall, grimacing as she felt spider webs graze her newly polished hair. She begged the hushed whispers of the gaggle of younger kids to pass into Lupin's classroom soon so that she could come out.

When they did, Asteria relaxed visibly and returned to the Hall, hurrying to join the Slytherin table. Nadine was the only girl from their year sitting there; she scowled as the boys in their classes squashed her between their chair legs, leaning eagerly in hopes of catching scraps of the older students' conversations.

She sat down as gracefully as she could for someone who had just come out of a broom cupboard after saying goodbye to a teacher who had just been discovered to be a werewolf, and raised her head cordially to her friend, who had brightened only slightly at her arrival.

Asteria caught Nadine's irritated little gestures and swung herself into the next chair, where she was closer to hearing the discussion Harper and Alton were trying so hard to eavesdrop on.

"-and good riddance too…wouldn't have lasted after I'd written to Father anyway-"

Father? Asteria thought sourly. The only person who referred to his paternal figure directly as "Father" instead of her more (in her opinion) socially considerate "my father" would be Draco Malfoy. She had found that if he ever mentioned his father in an intentionally loud voice, it was usually either to get someone fired or to muse the relative poverty of someone else's father. She listened more half-heartedly.

There were a few snatches of "Dumbledore, the old fool" followed by "let the beast escape on purpose" and topped off with a final "Father won't be happy about this". Pansy Parkinson gave her usual shriek of support, and there was a scatter of snorts and snickers.

"You heard too, then?" Harper, a boy she had only spoken to once or twice, was staring at the other students with awed eyes. "I bet Draco's going to get the Ministry to track him down."

"He won't," said Asteria dismissively, waving her hand. Maybe they had all missed it, but there had been an almost relieved tone in Malfoy's voice. He had sounded pretty tense leading up to the day of the hippogriff's execution, and she had always felt that it had been more about getting back at Potter and Hagrid than Buckbeak. Malfoy would probably settle for making their lives more miserable next year rather than pursuing the hippogriff.

Harper shrugged and continued to trace circles in his golden plate with his fork, shapes that eventually, to Asteria's curiosity, melded into a faint outline of a Golden Snitch.

So Harper wanted to be Seeker, she observed. Asteria unconsciously flicked her glance towards where Marcus Flint was looking surly and scowling at Malfoy's continued melodrama; he was still sore from being beaten in his last year ever by his mortal enemy, Oliver Wood, and Asteria would have felt sorry for him had he not been hooting annoyingly loudly in glee for the entire year and generally making studying life very nasty for the younger students (who did not dare defy him, of course). But then again, he wouldn't be there for the next year. Come to think of it, Asteria thought as food sprang up on the glittering plates all across the Great Hall, almost everyone on the Quidditch team would be leaving next year except Malfoy. So Harper wouldn't be playing Seeker for a while, now would he...

The final few days passed in a flurry of last-minute preparations and hasty gathering of lost possessions. For the most part, however, it was all restless waiting for the summer and for the older students, calm and relief after O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. Asteria herself was looking hungrily forward to the World Cup in the coming months, which her father had promised to take their entire family to see.

Soon, they were all boarding the Hogwarts Express again, and as Asteria stepped once more on the familiar red steam engine that was belching smoke and rumbling noises, she quickly stepped away from a certain couple whom she had encountered early in the year. She didn't want any more trouble with them.

"Are you sitting with your sister?" huffed Helen, who was pulling her trunk as her cat scampered over her hair exasperatingly.

Asteria eyed Daphne's bright hair as she walked and laughed with her friends into an empty compartment. A second later, however, a blushing Hufflepuff boy was tossed out, disproving her "empty compartment" theory. The girl folded her arms coolly as he passed them darkly.

He came by muttering a comparison between them and a word that was used to describe female dogs.

"Excuse me?"

He turned, narrowing his eyes as he saw the Slytherin embellishments on their uniforms. "Oh, it's you," he said nastily, recognizing the two girls. He frowned and turned his nose up, although, as Asteria noted, it wasn't in a very subtle or aristocratic way at all, and simply gave the impression of a pure-blood wannabe. "Look, it's the suck-up."

Asteria twitched involuntarily. Just because _she _was thoughtful and calculating enough to give the teachers chocolate (Snape had publicly sneered at her the first time she tried, to her dismay. But Flitwick and the others had accepted the fancy velvet boxes with delight) every holiday…But apparently _others_ didn't know the meaning of forging good feelings. Besides, it wasn't as if she was utilizing actual _bribery_…

She fumed. "At least I have the gold to afford to suck up," Asteria replied smoothly, reminding herself irresistibly of Draco Malfoy. "Unlike…ah, you."

Helen began to howl with laughter, and she almost slid down the aisle as the train began sliding into motion, jerking them all. "That was brilliant," she informed Asteria as he gave them a last scornful look and left. "But I thought you were trying to keep on peaceful terms with everybody?" She kept her eyes out watchfully for Nadine.

They passed several partially filled compartments, careful to remember the acceptable ones that they could return to later if all else failed. Asteria gave a small yelp as Morpheus's beak poked through the thin rods of his cage and stabbed her in the wrist. "Some people take courtesy and composure sarcastically," she breathed, massaging her wrist while Helen looked on sympathetically. "What losers…"

"They're Hufflepuffs," stated Helen matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly at several scowling Hufflepuff girls who were strolling by. "Although I would've expected Gryffindors to take it all even worse. They have pretty bad tempers and all." She suddenly halted, causing Asteria to walk her toes into the back of her iron-hard trunk. "Hey, look, it's some of your Ravenclaw friends…"

"What?" Asteria yanked her toes free of the wheels of Helen's trunk and peered into the glass her friend was regarding guardedly. It was indeed her "Ravenclaw friends". It seemed to be composed of Emma, Chandler, and a handful of other people from their year. There took up less than half the compartment, and as the two girls stood stranded mournfully outside, Helen suddenly decided that she would have to take this chance.

"Yeah, let's go in," she said casually, sliding open the door and wheeling her trunk in. When everyone looked up at their abrupt entrance, she gave them a genuine (looking) smile and sat down regally on a seat across from a thin boy with messy auburn hair.

Asteria followed quickly, trying not to pant with effort as her heavy trunk was pushed in; it was quite hard not to, and she felt in desperate need of air as she joined them in the compartment. "Hello," she said breathlessly, beaming.

To her gratitude, the Ravenclaws took their arrival quite nicely. They also seemed to be good conversationalists, providing intelligent discussions that Asteria truly appreciated. By the time the Hogwarts Express groaned to a stop at London, she was almost sorry to have to leave. "Are you going to the Quidditch World Cup this year?" she asked the thin boy, whose name she had deduced from the addresses made to him to be named Terence.

He looked disappointed. "Oh, no," he said downheartedly. "I'm, eh, Muggle-born, you see, so my parents won't take me."  
Helen had already left the compartment, chatting with Emma about cats. Asteria regarded him curiously, unsure of what to think.

"They're Muggles?" she asked, as they stepped out onto the platform of steam and hurrying families pushing carts.

Terence didn't seem to hear; he had just spotted a family of three with a little girl wandering a little further down a few yards away. "Mum! Dad!" he shouted, flapping his arms. "And that's my sister Florence," he told her excitedly.

Asteria nodded seriously. "Ah, I see. I'm sure you have a great family." She suddenly straightened her posture and held up her chin more. She herself had now seen a tall, elegant-looking couple strolling along the rails apprehensively, their softly yellow hair standing out in the rolls and wisps of gray steam. "Oh, and my father and mother are over there," she said rapidly, wanting to reach them soon. "I should go now." Seeing as Terence had nodded impatiently and departed for his own parents, Asteria snorted and began to pull her things towards her family.

"Asteria!" cried Mr. Greengrass, opening his arms wide as his younger daughter came into view. Mrs. Greengrass saw her as well and exclaimed in surprise; she waited until Asteria had been hugged by her father before enveloping her into a tight, proud embrace as well.

"I haven't seen you in so long," she said fondly, standing up and back to take her in. "You've grown so tall…"

Asteria smiled in a satisfied sort of way at her parents' gushing attentions, but also blushing slightly at the people who had turned to watch them with amusement. Of course, this newfound adoration would only last for maybe two weeks until they became used to her presence once again. "Mum, don't wrinkle your coat," she said reproachfully. "Please. People are watching us still…"

Mrs. Greengrass surveyed herself appraisingly. "Don't mind me, Asteria, I think we're both more worried about you…we are terribly sorry we couldn't have you back at the Estate for Christmas, but you know your father has been tremendously busy, of course." As a couple of families ran by, she raised her head critically. "Muggles."

Mr. Greengrass, who had been smiling broadly all this time, suddenly resumed his earlier haughty stance besides his wife. "Ah well," he said dismissively with a note of disdain, "their children are wizards, after all, so they can't have that terrible of Muggle blood. And mind you," he added immediately. "There's Daphne right now, and look who's with her…"

Asteria, who had just finished pulling on the long, slim Muggle coat (for when they were returning to the general outside platforms), barely restrained her gasp. It was true, to her pleasure. Her sister was practically dancing towards them, a jaunty smile on her face. Just a couple of paces behind her, there was an arrogant-looking couple in fine robes who were standing on either side of their son, a boy with a pale, pointed face and white blonde hair.

"I was just talking with Pansy before her parents came," Daphne was explaining rapidly to her mother in a low voice. "I think the Malfoys wanted to talk to Dad so they just stalked me openly back here…" Her face lit up as she saw Asteria, and Daphne rushed over to give her a very brief hug.

Behind her, Mr. Greengrass only spared a small knowing nod to his eldest daughter before stepping forward elaborately. "Ah, Lucius!" he remarked with geniality, throwing the Malfoys a surprised-looking smile. It was, of course, a more classy alternative to "I saw you from seven feet away already but didn't want to seem to so unstylish as to yell out a greeting". Asteria and Daphne snickered at the adults' exchanges, but Asteria felt slightly excited and already amused; she had a feeling this would not remain completely polite for long.

"How utterly _wonderful_ to see you, George," drawled the loud voice of Lucius Malfoy as he led his family to meet the Greengrasses face to face. He was not as indifferent and scorning as Asteria had seen him to others –in fact, right now he was being perfectly polite- but there was still an unmistakable air of superiority and command to his posture. "I trust you remember my wife Narcissa and my son, Draco?" he was saying rhetorically.

"Of course, of course," returned the girls' father grandly, waving his hand towards his own family. "You remember my wife and my girls, I take it? No? Daphne is the taller one with curls, and Asteria, my youngest, has the straight hair."

"They're very pretty young girls, are they not?" said Lucius Malfoy with a selective eye. Suddenly, to Asteria's complete and never-dying horror, he raised his hand to his previously smirking son's back (he was now flushing a pale shade of pink) and swerved him to face the family. "Wouldn't you agree, Draco?"

Asteria would have traded all the finest robes in the world just to have been able to forsake all family facades and dart away at that moment. But she didn't, and she smiled as if happy to hear the compliment. It was certainly an effort.

Malfoy's cheek twitched and he yanked his head down sneeringly by a fraction of an inch, obviously enjoying Asteria's discomfort. But her discomfort was solely based on personal embarrassment either; Mr. Malfoy was apparently happy with the fact that he could subtly flaunt his son in front of the Greengrasses, with their two daughters. A thinly veiled insult hidden in thinly given praise.

Mrs. Greengrass, however, was smiling as if in delight. "How kind of you, Lucius!" she exclaimed, shooting him a look that would have implied she was flattered, had it not followed such a comment as his. "But of course, of course...I'd always known the Malfoys had good taste, what with their beautiful manor and all..."

"Oh?" drawled Mr. Malfoy, evidently pleased with the compliment. "It's quite a delightful place to live, I assure you. Even lovelier than it looks from the outside."

Asteria's father frowned for a microsecond, unhappy that his precious family heritage, Greengrass Estate, had just been put down in favor of some stuffy aristocratic wizard's old mansion. "Well, then!" he said in a jolly voice, throwing up his hands. "I suppose appearances can always be deceiving, can't they?"

Daphne's smile had frozen uncertainly, and Malfoy had paused from where he was toying with his wand, and raised his head slowly, his eyes narrowed. Asteria felt a little bit terrified.

"After all, just look at our Asteria!" continued Mr. Greengrass as if he hadn't noticed the reactions, and clapped his hand rather painfully onto Asteria's back. "She's a pretty girl, no? -but inside, the way her mind works is just beautiful, I can't tell you how, Lucius...and the same with Daphne. Really, I think it can be quite funny how these things work...exceeding the expectations that we get from the outside. For example, I thought Arthur Weasley's house was a piece of rubbish, and it turns out it was actually made out of many pieces of rubbish! Interesting, really..."

Now Mr. Malfoy looked oddly conflicted, as if unsure of whether he had been praised all this time, or had just been subtly insulted. He was also seemingly miffed, although it was more that his beloved Malfoy Manor of his fathers had just been compared with some younger daughter of a lesser pure-blood family nowhere near to the prestige of the Malfoys...

Narcissa rescued them all. "Our Portkey shall be arriving shortly," she announced swiftly in a clear voice, a haughty raising of her head rather unnecessarily accompanying the words. "I always like for Draco to be able to relax properly after the school year. Perhaps we should excuse ourselves?"

The family nodded at the four (equally exasperated) Greengrasses and cast several more nasty looks at nearby Muggles before sweeping away. Draco gave them all a faint raise of his pale eyebrows as he left, and Lucius Malfoy simply took off after dropping a tantalizing reference to the "confidential event" that was coming next year to Hogwarts.

"Yeah, what is that?" asked Asteria half-heartedly as she watched the three figures depart, watching as her father gave her the usual reply- a vague, smug smile that lacked an answer. But she was feeling too light-hearted to care.

All well, the four Greengrasses wove their way through the crowds of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, together again, and Asteria could truly feel nothing more at that moment than peace and calm –not the calm that Sirius Black had retreated from the area, not that the dementors would be gone next year, or even that she wouldn't have to stand another high-pitched giggle from Pansy Parkinson- but this was quite a simple calm. There was a bright sky, a cool breeze, and Greengrass Estate to return to. And that was all that mattered right now.

* * *

_So what did you think? Yeah? If you'll notice, I changed a few things to unlamen it. You can help me make this story even _more_ (gasp!) unlame by adding a review! Yeah! You see, with your beautiful essence of reviewy-ness, my previously draggy piece of crap for a story will be lightened up! -into a marvelous thing or art! Just because of your awesomeness!! So I beg you to give it! Charity is nice...so please...come on, it's not hard...I'm not asking for a chunk of your flesh or anything...honest...ha, ha..._


	6. Christmas at the Yule Ball

_Right, I'm sorry for not updating yesterday (chuckles nervously), but someone's computer disconnected randomly as I was uploading, so…yeah. But anyway, this one goes through the entire fourth year; I've decided to go a little faster. Anyway, this one is definitely longer…and I honestly hope it doesn't bore you. Ah, tell me what you think!_

****

* * *

**Christmas at the Yule Ball**

_August 26, 1994. After dark, in early a.m. hours. Forest of Dean, following 422nd Quidditch World Cup final._

Asteria first woke to the sounds of shouting and crowing outside the tent, and she sat up groggily, her sleep-blurred eyes catching her father standing anxiously at the entrance flap of the Greengrasses' tent.

He turned to look at his youngest daughter, looking relieved she had finally awoken. "Oh, I was just going to wake you up," he said wearily. "Your mother's insisted on going to find Daphne at the Parkinsons' tent, and we're supposed to meet up in the woods…" He trailed off and continued to watch the scene outside worriedly.

She flung the covers off herself, wincing as the sounds of terrified screaming sounded from several yards away. Asteria grabbed a cloak off a hook and draped it onto her shoulders, shivering slightly as she joined her father to see what was so horrible outside.

Although they were too far away to see clearly, she would distinctly make out at least twelve hooded figures with their wands held up high in their air, seemingly jeering as they levitated four mysterious struggling shapes into the air. Everywhere else people ran to avoid their sweeping march, and the tents that blocked their path were blasted out of the way without a second thought.

Mr. Greengrass hesitated, seemingly torn on a decision. "I'm supposed to go help the Ministry with this," he finally said curtly, his hand tight on his wand. "This is…getting a little out of control…just people drunk after the Irish victory…masquerading and playing at being Death Eaters, don't know what they're thinking…" He suddenly nodded quickly at Asteria, lifting the entrance flap and gesturing outside it.

She rubbed her hands together, tensing as several flashes of red wandlight lit up the black sky and several people ran, looking lost.

"I want you to get to the woods," he said swiftly, his gaze already wandering towards the scattering of Ministry wizards who were dashing to the rescue. "Not too deep so that you'll get lost, but keep your head down and try to stay safe. You have your wand?" As Asteria nodded, he smiled grimly and turned his head to several yelling wizards in flapping nightclothes. "I should be going now, try to find your mother or Daphne…oh, look, there's Arthur, not the best of company, but…hey, Arthur!" Mr. Greengrass waved his hand wildly and tore off in the direction of a puzzled-looking redheaded man Asteria could only take to be the fabled Arthur Weasley.

Deciding that keeping a cool head would help her, Asteria ducked into her cloak and ran for the break of tall, knobby trees that dotted the grounds about twenty yards away. There were other people apparently also fleeing the unprecedented rampage, and she melded into their safety of numbers gratefully, only separating herself when they were a good few yards more into the deeper woods.

Asteria paused momentarily here, wandering for a few minutes. The trees here seemed to be thicker than they had been, and she could only take that as a good sign. Up ahead, she could just make out a flickering light and the voices of at least four people carrying towards her.

She listened carefully, wondering if she should proceed. There was a faint declaration of "Mudblood", a word Asteria had trained herself to filter almost instinctively; she jumped at the word, and decided even more firmly not to pass in that direction when an angry voice shouted, "You watch your mouth!" Asteria was wise enough to avoid potential brawls. Especially in these conditions, and who knew what was in the woods here…

There seemed to be a general dirt path further on, and she followed it sharply, keeping her wand gripped closely the whole time. But in time, Asteria found to her relief that it led onto a semi-clearing, and there was a mill of ragged wizards and witches from all around the world, many still in their Irish or Bulgarian-supportive colors.

A group of muttering American families was huddled under the branches of a sprawled tree, and Asteria curiously tried to catch a few snippets of their accent despite the situation. Several Chinese wizards stalked pass her, evidently unhappy with everything.

Asteria continued further on, more worried now. If the Parkinsons had evacuated their tent before her mother had gotten there, then there would be three parties circling the woods frantically trying to locate each other. The girl massaged her temples, attempting to calm herself down.

Of course, logically, she really should stop where she was…the place seemed safe enough in numbers and location. Perhaps with a lot of luck she might even find Daphne as she stumbled around looking for everyone else.

While she did not, Asteria did encounter Nadine Sanders from Hogwarts as she led her scowling older brother around the area, obviously looking for people she knew as well. When she saw her classmate, Nadine's normally aloof face relaxed into a smile.

"Your parents are trying to calm down those wizards out there too?" asked Asteria eagerly, happy to have found someone.

Nadine beamed. "Of course. Who isn't? Oh, and this is my brother, Roderick." Roderick looked bored but nodded. She rambled on nervously. "This is the first time the Death Eaters have been back in years though, too-"

"Death Eaters?" said Asteria, amused. "Don't you think it's rather unlikely that Death Eaters randomly decide to come back after thirteen years when the Dark Lord is still gone?" And because it had been bothering her, she suggested, "You didn't see what they were floating in the air, did you?"

Nadine's face grew solemn. "Those were the Muggles who took the sheets of money when you first checked in," she explained. "That was the guy's family. Only Death Eaters like doing that kind of stuff."

Asteria raised her eyebrows, trying to think of something else to support her theory. "Well, they don't have the Dark Mark up, do they?" she said loftily.

Roderick became a little interested at this point. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe they were too drunk to think of it…"

He never finished, because at that moment, fresh screams erupted all around them, there were even more terrified commands and screeching from the direction of the campsite, and now Asteria could see why.

She watched, entranced and utterly shocked, as an enormous green skull shape with a serpent tongue would itself into the air, higher and higher, until it reached the highest point in the sky, an emerald tattoo etched into the night sky horribly.

This was not in books, nor being sketched by a scholarly father. The Dark Mark had somehow been cast into the sky thirteen years after the Dark Lord fell, but there was still one thing that disturbed Asteria, and it was not this.

"Where are they running to?" demanded Nadine, who echoed Asteria's exact sentiments. "If the Death Eaters are still at the campsite, then where are they going?"

Roderick was not listening. "They've scattered," he said shortly after a pause. "That means it should be…relatively safe to return to the campsite."

And exchanging a grimace with her friend, Asteria found that she had to agree with this. They crossed back through stretches of trees back towards the still-flaming tents, the torn canvas of fallen shelters, and clusters of wide-eyed, confused people who were swarming up to the few Ministry officials who were trying to surreptitiously slip away after coming out of the woods.

It didn't Asteria long to spot her father running out of the last breaks of trees, her mother and Daphne running behind him. She hurried gratefully towards them, thanking the Sanders as she did; hospitality should be thanked at all times, a Greengrass rule.

"Where were you?" asked a shaken Mrs. Greengrass immediately as she seized her daughter into a close hug. "We couldn't find you anywhere…"

Daphne was standing close by. "We're not going to wait until morning to return home, are we?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Mr. Greengrass looked thoughtful. "No, of course not," he said resignedly, scanning his surroundings. "I've just picked up our things to leave and Amos and Marlin just left shortly after we found that elf, ah, and right then, let's take you back and I can always come back to help pick up later, come on…"

They kept close together, walking towards the edge of the scene, avoiding the bewildered gaggles of people as much as possible. At just the end of a series of blown-down tents, Mr. Greengrass stiffened, and Asteria saw the Malfoys standing discreetly under a tree, murmuring among themselves as they surveyed the confusion further behind.

Asteria, curious, observed carefully as her father narrowed his eyes as if annoyed, then strode out importantly to meet them open-on.

"Good night, Lucius!" he said charmingly, nodding to acknowledge a started Narcissa Malfoy and Draco. "Tired from all that spellwork, then?"

Lucius Malfoy's pale face looked wary for the smallest of seconds, and Asteria caught him flicking a quick glance towards the still-hovering Dark Mark before he relaxed into an easy smile. "Never when you're having fun, George," he said lazily, keeping his hand on his son's shoulder. "You tend not to let the exhaustion get to you when you're enjoying yourself, no?"

Mr. Greengrass laughed courteously. "Dealing with those Death Eaters was probably the most exciting thing we've been able to do in a while, wasn't it?" Asteria saw him watching closely for Mr. Malfoy's reaction.

His answer was flawlessly timed. "Oh, no," drawled Lucius Malfoy with a smirk. "I was referring to dealing with those Muggles. Where have you been, George? They were entertaining, weren't they?"

Daphne exchanged a look with Asteria, and she felt her eyebrows shooting up in surprise; Lucius Malfoy could have been doubly referring to either letting down the Muggles or levitating them in the first place, and from his tone, it wasn't exactly difficult for anyone to figure out which activity he had most likely been engaging in. He almost seemed to be toying with how long the Greengrasses would keep to the formal assumptions and manners.

"…sure were," Asteria's father was replying merrily. "I love modifying memories so much I could do this all night!" With a hearty wave, he led his family brightly in the other direction, finally stopping by the sign they had first passed when meeting Mr. Roberts.

After they stood on the front door of their mansion, having Apparated back, Asteria caught her mother muttering to her father, saying, "As long as they don't get too giddy about it in public." She and Daphne lingered in the greeting parlor, half-expecting to be given instructions on who to avoid at Hogwarts this year for the family's reputation, but Mr. Greengrass saw them and waved them off, obviously tired himself.

Asteria hesitated at her door, feeling as if she would like to ask something but all the same feeling as if it wouldn't be the best time.

Daphne passed her, shaking her slightly disheveled head in amazement. "What was with all that innuendo about Ministry work and Death Eater stuff?" she muttered as she crossed towards her room.

Asteria could not have agreed more.

* * *

_August 30, 1994._

As it happened, the entire mess and scare quickly became publicized, and the event became more and more controversial. It wasn't until a couple of days later that Asteria actually started to appreciate what it had really been. To her, it had just appeared to be what her father thought at first: troubling but relatively harmless drunken behavior by a few crazed costumers. But the public was taking this pretty badly.

Of course, they had failed to actually apprehend anyone for this matter (although Mr. Greengrass had mentioned a certain house-elf of Mr. Crouch being sacked over dinner yesterday), and it wasn't exactly as if there were any suspects either, everyone having been hooded and masked and unwilling to come forward to admit it.

But the entire incident began to fade away as the renewed excitement of Hogwarts approached, and the girls quickly forgot about the shocking spectacle.

"We're getting dress robes?" demanded Daphne delightedly, skimming her list as they strolled importantly down Diagon Alley. In her glee, she spun around twice and whipped several people in the face with the long parchment scroll.

Asteria eagerly examined hers but found no such item listed on there. When she pointed this out hesitantly to her mother (whining was for those without any sense of subtlety), Mrs. Greengrass looked sympathetic, but her father's eyes lit up.

"Oh, this is for the special event that's going to be happening at Hogwarts this year," he declared boastfully as they strolled into Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions shop. "No doubt fourth year is below the line for actual participation, but I suppose it makes it for dancing, eh?"

Daphne and Asteria exchanged frowns, and the younger girl curiously tucked her list into her robes pocket, still absolutely without a substantial clue as to what the "special event" was. It was definitely very huge, and had required enormous batches of time to plan out, seeing as it had been at least in process since Christmas of last year.

They measured Daphne for a set of coral and gold robes that crisscrossed gracefully on the back. Although Mr. Greengrass complained about the perfectly acceptable neckline being too low, Mrs. Greengrass proudly proclaimed her girl to be growing up.

Asteria tried not to look too eager when her parents suggested that she also choose a pair, and she found a long, slim dress of a pale grass green silky material that she was very happy with, wondering if she should take it in her trunk to Hogwarts anyway.

And Hogwarts came, this year seemingly more exciting than the last. Finally, the purpose of all Mr. Greengrass's careful ambiguity became clear: Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament.

The girls were discussing the topic in hushed whispers all the way into the common room, where they found the fire to be swishing warmly in the grate and the green lamps to be set back a notch, filling the place with a warmer shade of golden, welcoming light that considerably lightened the mood.

A group of sixth and seventh years were gathered in the middle of the room, rudely blocking the entrance up to the dormitories, so Asteria and Helen were forced to stand exasperatedly with the other first and second years as two huge boys loudly roared, "Warrington's the man!" before they were able to proceed up.

There was an air of anticipation everywhere this year, indeed, about who would make the Hogwarts champion (they all hoped it would a Slytherin, of course, but Asteria had to admit that Cedric Diggory would make a more, er, competent champion than Warrington), and occasionally after the other two school had breathtakingly arrived, who would become the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang winners.

Everywhere too-young students plotted about how to cross Dumbledore's age line, gushed about the tension and demonstrations in Professor Moody's classes, and it seemed that they only fell silent when Fleur Delacour swept by in the halls.

Fleur was also an often-discussed topic, something which apparently annoyed the heck out of Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, Draco, did you see Weasley's face when she came by?" giggled Pansy, pointing to Ronald Weasley, who had indeed had a look of utter dreaminess and recklessness cross his red face as the veela-like girl twirled past them.

"What?" drawled Malfoy, who was also staring at Fleur's retreating figure.

Scowling, Pansy continued. "And Potter didn't at all," she said, simpering. "I think he's in love with that Granger." She looked smug as Malfoy's expression cleared and he began to complain loudly about Dumbledore letting in riffraff and how he almost went to Durmstrang.

Asteria noticed, among all her increasingly heavy workload, that Malfoy was really working hard to spread anti-Potter sentiment. The fourth years formed almost something like an organization to renounce the boy, with Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy bent over delicate piles of letters to various magazines and newspapers every night.

It seemed to have no effect whatsoever until after Harry Potter somehow became the fourth Triwizard champion, however, perhaps due to the fact that Malfoy became even more determined to undermine his championship era; Asteria doubted, knowing him, that he would have forgotten last year's disastrous hippogriff affair in a hurry.

That night the common room was in an uproar.

"How did he get in?" asked Lilith Moon incredulously, her shiny black hair whipping out of its tie from all the head-turning she was doing.

"Maybe he had an older student fly over the Age Line on a broomstick and then transfigure the paper so that it would say his name on it after it was dropped in," squeaked Graham Pritchard, a first year whose eyes were bulging at his own creativity. Meanwhile, Pansy Parkinson was looking stressed as her Draco managed to look both mutinous and sulky at the same time.

Asteria listened to several of the other theories before collapsing into laughter, some of them even wilder than she would have thought possible. Miles Bletchley was now gesturing his hands in a complicated manner that was illustrating Potter doing some sort of Quidditch maneuver to fool the Goblet of Fire.

Now Malfoy had begun whispering something quietly to Crabbe, and he and the two other boys got up from the central cluster and headed up to the dormitories, carrying several empty cardboard boxes up as they did.

Several weeks later, their purpose was revealed.

Asteria was sitting alone in the cold common room at about six in the morning, trying to sneak in a few extra hours to study for Snape's excruciatingly difficult quiz today. It would feature antidotes, something they had only skimmed over in textbooks. Nevertheless, he insisted, and although many of the other students had dutifully vowed to test their luck, Asteria hoped that studying would still achieve wonders.

She had been unenthusiastically trailing her finger over the definition of a bezoar (didn't he mention that somewhere before?) and wishing she had stayed in her warm bed when the sound of unusually quick footsteps from the direction of the boys' dormitories signaled someone's approach.

"This is brilliant, Goyle," someone was saying, their voice practically oozing glee. "I can't believe we got to finish them all in one night, but now we have to focus on getting one to everyone we see, understand, boys?"

Asteria turned mildly as Malfoy strutted in with a grinning Crabbe and Goyle in tow, each carrying two large and familiar boxes filled over the brim with shiny, metallic chunks of green and red-glowing objects.

He caught her sitting there, looking surprised but otherwise quite pleased. "Care for a badge to support your real champion, Greengrass?" he asked loudly, offering the tray as he led his cronies to the armchairs. Malfoy took a seat, Crabbe and Goyle falling naturally out of step and into chairs on either side of him. "Watch this," he said offhandedly, showing her a gleaming badge.

It read _Support Cedric Diggory- the REAL Hogwarts Champion!_ and shone green, the letters finely and clearly engraved into silver metal. Malfoy, smirking, pressed it and the message switched abruptly to_ Potter Stinks_, glowing red. Asteria felt herself smiling involuntarily.

"What do we do with them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she examined one. These were done very carefully and cleverly, definitely not at the hands of Crabbe and Goyle. Perhaps Malfoy had enlisted the help of Zabini or Nott to finish them so quickly, for he seemed pretty well-rested –although that could have been due to his exceeding smugness. It was also a resourceful idea, and a creative and entertaining way to transfer what little support Potter had in the student body onto the already popular and favored Cedric Diggory. But –Asteria hesitated- if the badges weren't a success, then she definitely wouldn't want to be seen sporting one, especially not in front of the Gryffindors she could get along with. "Did you bewitch these all by yourself?" she asked to stall desperately needed time.

In the end, Asteria took one with hopefully unsuspiciously gushing thanks, keeping the message green on Support Cedric Diggory!

She needn't have worried, because in the end, every last and single person in Slytherin had pinned a badge to his or her chest, and as the morning trickled on tantalizingly, Asteria stepped out of her Charms classroom with Helen and blinked in the sea of green; Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had also taken very nicely to the idea.

Asteria saw Emma Reed chattering with a friend, a Support Cedric Diggory! badge also on her chest, and hurried over, ducking her head down as a scowling Gryffindor Chaser walked in the other direction.

"You're wearing one too, then?" she asked in relief as she reached the two girls.

Emma turned, bemused, and her face cleared as she saw Asteria. "Oh, yeah." She blushed. "They're pretty funny. I'm not pressing it to Potter Stinks or anything. I just think Ce- er, Diggory would make a better face to represent Hogwarts, that's all."

Asteria nodded meaningfully, feeling exactly the same way, except her reason for being reluctant included self-preservation instincts. She flushed slightly, feeling a little selfish.

As she found out every night for that week in the common room, the Potter Stinks badges were a huge boom. Seeing as they could switch messages, curious students took one. Seeing as they were quite funny, those with a sense of humor walked off with several. Seeing as they were free, even the cheapest student had accepted one. Ironically enough, the Weasleys had all turned their freckled noses up at the mention of them. Asteria personally thought it was a little too prideful and Gryffindor-ish for them to do so. She would have taken twenty and tried to recycle them into something to get back at Malfoy with. But she was a Slytherin, so she didn't say anything about that when she saw the Creevey brothers acting on that idea.

Indeed, Malfoy seemed unstoppable for someone who had just been turned into a ferret and bounced in front of the whole school a little while ago. The incident had been hilarious, and Asteria didn't see a single person who didn't laugh roaringly asides from Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, but the subject became a sort of taboo within the numbers of the younger students. It was a sort of mention-it-and-you-die kind of thing, and she steered clear of it regretfully.

After the First Task, however, it was no surprise that Potter's popularity rose once again. But this time, barely anyone was too interested in that. There was a bigger matter, and more pressing now, at hand. It came in the form of the Yule Ball.

The girls were elatedly, and there was barely a single second Asteria spent in her friends' company that didn't include talk of dress robes and rumors of who had asked who to the Ball.

Just after dinner one day, Daphne pulled her aside into a Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Guess what, Asteria?" she said loudly over the ghost's moaning and screeching.

Asteria thought it sounded a lot like Pansy Parkinson's dialogue whenever Malfoy was injured, but as her sister wouldn't exactly be fond of hearing that, she looked up grudgingly and asked in a rather bored voice, "What?"

Daphne's smile didn't waver. "I got you a partner for the Ball," she sang even louder, and Asteria had to wonder why her sister didn't just choose to whisper in the quieter halls instead of shouting over loud sobs. "He's from Beauxbatons," she said mischievously, nodding as her sister took interest. "Of course. Yeah, his cousin asked me to go with him just yesterday." She looked very excited but showed it in an unruffled, self-satisfied way.

Asteria's head spun. "Merlin's beard," she said breathlessly. "I really am going, then?"

"Rhetorical answer is yes, little sister," replied Daphne cheerfully, slipping quickly outside the door.

On Christmas evening, all the fourth years and above were gathered in the huge entrance hall, milling eagerly among each other and weaving through others to find their partners.

The garlands and festive baubles certainly gave the place a keenly wintry and sweepingly ballroom-ish feeling. Asteria examined her reflection critically in a polished mirror-like suit of armor one last time, lingering behind the older students who were now excitedly giggling and nervously exchanging awkward pleasantries with each others' dates.

She wore the pale green dress they had purchased at Madam Malkin's, admiring the sleek skirt as it swished gracefully about her figure. Her mother had sent her a delicate silver necklace as well, and Asteria had to admit it looked nice resting on her collarbone. Her pale blonde hair flowed free except at the forehead, where she had pulled it back and pinned it. Asteria quickly turned away from the suit of armor; fawning over her own image vainly would not do much for her at all.

Finally somewhat nervous herself, the second year girl excused herself through the crowds, finally locating Daphne at the other end of the entrance hall. She was conversing animatedly with two dark-haired boys who were chuckling at her words. The rest of her friends stood just a little while away to give them space; seeing Pansy Parkinson seizing Malfoy's arm devotedly brought a genuinely amused smirk to Asteria's face, and she was able to relax as she joined her sister and their partners.

"Oh, and this is my sister, Asteria," proclaimed Daphne, just as eight o' clock struck and the grand doors of the Great Hall shuddered open, and the waves of excited and elated students poured in to the elegant, frosty, and beautifully redecorated ballroom that had once been the place of meals, and that they had slept in for a night last year.

The taller of the boys waited until the champions had begun the dance and the music had roared up before bowing courteously to Daphne, who looked touched. "Could I ask a dance?" he asked rhetorically, smiling at her.

In two seconds, they were gone, one of the first couples to begin filling up the dance floor. Asteria snickered as Potter began leading Patil forcefully away as soon as he could; apparently he wasn't much of a dancer.

"Your name is Asteria, then?" asked her partner politely, regarding her with interest. He spoke with a slight French accent, with much better English than she had heard Fleur Delacour use. "I am Julien." He offered his hand, which Asteria reminded herself to shake. He turned to the dancers, who were now transiting to the next Weird Sisters' song, a slow, breezy tune. "I am assuming you would like to dance now."

"Of course," she said enthusiastically, quite relieved that he had asked so soon.

Julien led her in between several couples, and they assumed a casual dance position. It was a simple song, and not one that could appropriately be classified as a slow dance.

Halfway through the hour, Asteria felt a little lightheaded and artfully wove an excuse to sit down. She was surprised that she had been able to dance with several different boys, including one from Durmstrang and an older Ravenclaw; for the most part, her various partners were friends of Julien who wandered by and cared to exchange dances with each other's respective partners.

She took the empty bench, thanking Julien as he came back with punch in two glasses. Asteria was annoyed, as she didn't like punch, and it dried up one's mouth after several minutes, but she took several sips anyway just to appear polite.

In a minute, they were prepared to resume dancing as another semi-slow song struck up, and Asteria remembered it with an internal groan from hearing it exceedingly often at Greengrass Estate. It was called _Bewitched by You_ and it apparently dragged on for ten whole excruciatingly long minutes. It was also not the most pleasant tune.

Vaguely, she saw Pansy and Malfoy strolling towards their bench, and resolved to take the Greengrass way of appearing interested in something else other than approach until the last moment.

"Oh, hi," she remarked when they were only two feet away. That way she didn't have to shout. Asteria internally snickered at her tactics.

Pansy didn't look as surprised. "Yeah, I saw you from all the way back there," she informed them unstylishly. "You look really pretty."

"What?" Whatever Asteria had expected, it was not this. "But you look beautiful," she said graciously. Sucking up, after all, could always achieve wonders with Pansy…

She simpered predictably. "Thank you." Her gaze turned curiously to Julien, who was watching the scene with a subtly raised eyebrow. "Oh, are you Asteria's partner?" She beamed. "This is Draco, _my_ partner," she purred, stroking Malfoy's arm fondly.

"Then would I be correct in assuming that you would be delighted to exchange partners for a dance, mademoiselle?" asked Julien, positively dripping charm as he offered his arm boldly to Pansy's frilly pink one. Asteria winced; the courteous action would lose the intended effect if Pansy refused to part with her Draco.

But most shockingly, she looked radiantly happy. "I would love to!" gasped Pansy, charmed by his manners. She released a bored Malfoy, and settled her fingers tightly on Julien. They swept up to the rest of the dancers.

This left Asteria and Malfoy standing distractedly together. Under normal circumstances, any two people in this situation would have felt incredibly awkward, but seeing as Malfoy was too bored examining his fingernails and Asteria doubted that she would be asked to dance by him, she didn't wait anxiously on tenterhooks for the inevitable request. Which was why she choked on her drink when Malfoy did.

"Are you going to dance again, then?" he drawled, his eyes set on four sulky-looking figures on the other end of the Great Hall. It seemed to consist of Potter, Weasley, and the Patil twins, none of whom looked too glad to be there.

Hardly believing her ears, Asteria glanced from Malfoy to where Potter sat in curiosity. She had to give him credit for the idea, though. If Malfoy was dying to either flaunt his ability to dance in front of Potter or his dress robes in front of Weasley (she suspected he wanted to do both), then it would make perfect subtle sense to waltz annoyingly in front of his face with a partner. "If you want to," she answered a little too quickly, to her dismay. Her mother had spent countless hours speaking to them about timing, and now she messed it up when she actually had to apply it.

But Malfoy didn't seem to mind. As the lights dimmed dramatically in time for the second portion of the song, he stood up arrogantly and offered his arm as if hoping she wouldn't take it. "I think we should dance then, don't you think, Greengrass?" he said smoothly.

Asteria restrained her scowl and also stood up in what she hoped was a graceful move. "Should we focus more on bothering Potter or more on bothering Weasley?" she asked, trying not to sound too annoyed with his purpose of asking her.

Malfoy pretended not to hear this, instead leading her up to where Fleur Delacour and an intoxicated-looking Roger Davies were leaving for the gardens outside, and pretentiously enough, adapted the standard waltz position. Asteria was scandalized.

"This isn't that formal of a dance, is it?" she asked haughtily, not wanting to stand out as a snob as she reluctantly took hold of Malfoy's left hand.

"Look at Potter," sneered Malfoy, who didn't seem to have heard her just now. He set his hand on her waist and began to drag them towards the direction of Potter. If he had hoped to gain his attention, he was mistaken; his eyes were mutinously narrowed at Chang and Diggory. "He couldn't get the date he wanted, so he ends up shielding Weasley's dress robes from the public."

At any other time Asteria would have found this, if not incredibly funny, at least lightly amusing, but as of now she was too intent on not being crushed to death as Malfoy steered them a little too quickly towards the other end of the huge room. It also required a lot of concentration not to show such effort and continue to stay observant to his criticisms, smirking at his taunts where needed.

"And then there's Longbottom," snickered Malfoy, who seemed more pleased now that another target was within reach. "What's he thinking, going with that Weaselette? Not the best dancer, is he, Greengrass?" Malfoy looked disgusted.

Asteria internally panicked. This was a hard time to stay composed and haughty. She had just almost collided with a menacing-looking Gryffindor, who scowled at her after catching sight of her partner, and Malfoy seemed completely oblivious to it all, satisfied enough with pointing out the faults of all his nemeses. She looked desperately to a tripping Longbottom, who looked dismayed at his unintentional clumsiness, and Asteria fumbled wildly for something witty to say. "Maybe Weasley couldn't afford a better partner," she suggested.

Malfoy smirked, not even looking at her as he backed them towards the Gryffindor couple. Asteria could have groaned at her luck. "Sad you couldn't get Potter, Weasley?" he said snidely as they passed by, the music progressing into the next, softer stage. "Maybe next time you'll do better…choke out some Galleons and buy yourselves some more attractive dress robes. Just don't ask Longbottom for advice. We all know he has bad taste, don't we? Trying to ask a _Mudblood _to the Ball..."

This time Asteria cringed in time to miss Neville Longbottom's blush of embarrassment, and she felt her fingers tighten on Malfoy's hand, making him glance down slightly scornfully, apparently mad that she was ruining his big moment. But at Ginny Weasley's angry glare, Asteria lifted her chin up in a quiet, cool challenge. She wasn't going to simper like an idiot at Malfoy's every word, but if it came down to two hostile Gryffindors or a fellow Slytherin in her sister's year, she would definitely make it clear she didn't support _them_.

"Yeah, not like you're just jealous a Muggle-born could get a Triwizard Tournament," snapped the redheaded girl, who looked defensive. "Bet you tried to ask old Fleur Delacour yourself too, didn't you?" And with that last snapped comment, she firmly took Longbottom by one hand and pulled him to the refreshments tables.

Malfoy looked furious, and he flushed, leading Asteria to assume that he had indeed harbored ideas about doing so. It was no secret that several boys actually had done so in real life; she had been present when Ronald Weasley's ears turned red and ran away.

Nearby, Asteria could see Daphne twirling immaculately with a boy from Durmstrang, and saw her sister's jaw drop a little at seeing her, and who her partner was. Asteria returned the smile nonchalantly and continued to live out her sentence.

Malfoy had given up trying to throw insults at his enemies, and simply settled for shooting them contemptuous glances when they passed them. Asteria was rather glad of this, although she showed no outward signs of it. With their dance pattern now much less erratic, she was able to keep in step and direction without any effort at all. "Potter and Weasley are slipping out," she said casually after a few minutes, gesturing towards the entrance with her chin.

"That's two less filthy blood traitors slogging up our floor, then," said Malfoy bitterly, his light gray eyes narrowly coolly at the two retreating figures. He subtly resumed his unconcerned, satisfied drawl. "Too bad the rest can't go and join them."

Asteria personally thought it was too bad she couldn't pause and join them without seriously harming her future, but didn't remark on this. Instead, she listened to the end of the song drift closer, while scanning the floor for people she knew. All the while she had been quite occupied and had not thought to gather information.

Blaise Zabini was dressed finely in mahogany and ivory robes, dancing with a pretty girl he kept looking at disdain with, the reason escaping Asteria except for the fact that he looked at pretty much everything and everyone with that expression.

Somewhere on the right, Crabbe and Goyle were hulking by the refreshment tables, managing to be partner-less, cake-devouring, and intimidating to other people all at the same time. Their olive green dress robes looked expensive but monotonous on them.

Pansy Parkinson was still dancing with Julien, giggling as she was spun in a circle; Daphne had returned to her first partner from Beauxbatons, and Lilith Moon and Tracey Davis stood together, whispering and collapsing into laughter as they pointed out various boys. Millicent Bulstrode, who had done visibly little to improve her usual appearance, sat alone at a table a little while down. Nearby, Theodore Nott was reclining lazily in his casually aristocratic-looking azure dress robes, surveying the scene as if he had more important things to do than join them.

Finally, the Weird Sisters struck the last note to the song, and Asteria wove her way over to a giddy-looking Daphne, feeling not as bad as she would have assumed. As soon as she reached her sister, Daphne seemed to wake up considerably and drew her over to Millicent Bulstrode's table, looking excited.

"You danced with him!" she demanded, looking awed. "How was it? Did you enjoy it?"

To her left, Malfoy had come up, with Pansy clutching his arm devotedly again. "Your sister isn't a bad dancer," he commented dryly, reaching for a drink. He drained the glass, settling back into the cushions that lined the bench and sprawling out comfortably. Pansy began to croon affectionately and took his hand onto hers, holding it possessively, as if wanting him to call her a good dancer too.

"Of course not, Malfoy," replied Daphne breezily as Asteria briefly smirked into her drink, also curling up against the cushions. "We pure-blood girls are taught how to dance at a young age…if you're not a Weasley though, of course…"

Asteria doubted anyone else who had been taught to dance would have been able to execute the entire dance she had survived without either displaying outward discomfort or failing to remain immaculate in every move, but she laughed along with the rest of the slowly increasing Slytherin (and Beauxbatons) table as everyone began to reminisce happily and smugly on their childhood privileges.

She let herself relax, and calmed truly after a few more songs, watching people dance and appraising their elegance unconsciously. Now that she considered it, Ginny Weasley was actually not too bad; she certainly had some of the grace Asteria and Daphne had been casually tutored in.

And Cho Chang was a brilliant dancer as well; she could see why Potter's eyes had been riveted on her all night. Cedric Diggory was also gazing at her with fond affection in his every step and eyes, and the two made a beautiful couple, outshining everyone else.

Granger and Krum would have been impressive as well had Krum been more sure-footed on land. Asteria mentally reminded herself to work up the nerve to ask for his autograph before he left; it was a little scary with all the rabid fangirls to usually try, though.

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies also would have been nice to watch, if only they weren't outside in the cool night doing who-knows-what.

Sometime after, Asteria took a quick detour outside in the night breeze, taking a breath before Daphne dragged her onto the dance floor again, this time with the music louder and wilder, everyone quite enthusiastic and high on adrenaline.

It was a completely wonderful evening, and as Asteria returned to the common room later that evening, she was still in high spirits and totally unexhausted, feeling as if there could have been no better day in her life.

* * *

_So how was it?! Outstanding? Acceptable? Troll? Please care to review? (pleads and grovels) I honestly don't care if you leave this cruddy one-liner that consists of something like this:_

_:)_

_Or:_

_:(_

_…really. And speaking of reviews, did you happen to see that review button down there? Come on… (points to green button down there suggestively) You don't have to even be Crabbe or Goyle to figure out what I'm trying to say here…_


	7. Unpleasantries

_Right. I ended on a joy!note, so I felt it only appropriate to tone down the romantic feelings for a while…just bring in the serious tones until the next chapter._

* * *

**Unpleasantries**

_June 19, 1995. Midnight._

When she came back from the library a little later that night, she was surprised to find that voices were echoing whiningly from within the common room at a shockingly loud volume. Asteria cautiously entered, taking care not to draw attention to herself.

Pansy Parkinson seemed to be the main –well, only- source of the noise, shouting hysterically and sobbing ostentatiously as she cradled something on her lap, surrounded by rather awkward members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

As Asteria approached them quietly (she had mastered the art of not tripping over random things by now), she could hear the conversations a little more clearly.

"And why weren't you there, Daphne?" accused Pansy heatedly, as something in the center of the ring let out a muffled moan of pain. It sounded awfully familiar, and as Asteria reached the edge of the group, she could see why. Suddenly, she had a flashback of Draco Malfoy cringing tragically and showing off his injured arm from her first year.

Daphne, who managed to look inconspicuous despite her haughty sitting posture, pretended to look surprised to hear this. "I had to deal with the uproar in the corridors back there," she explained patiently, although Asteria recognized a look of subtle annoyance on her face. "You know that, Pansy. I've told you at least a hund-"

"Well, you don't seem to understand what you failed to help us do," snapped Pansy, as she reached out to seize a wincing Malfoy's hand violently. He made no move to push away, however, and even looked rather pleased that she was taking his condition so seriously. "Draco could have been killed by those idiots, and Potter and his friends got away!"

Asteria, curious now, bent down behind a couch as if to pick something up, but listened closely.

"In fact, you know what, Daphne?" Pansy was continuing, somehow able to sound both angry and high-pitched at the same time, "You never seem to be helping us very much anymore. You're supposed to _help_ when you join the Inquisitorial Squad, but I don't think I remember the last time you didn't make an excuse to get away from the _real_ work!"

Suddenly, the reason behind Pansy and Malfoy's newfound closeness, as well as her new rift with her sister became very clear. The affection must've been cultivated on all those bonding trips where they docked points from random people they hated, Asteria mused. Daphne never went on those, something she personally considered wise, even (well, especially) if it lost her a few points with Pansy. You never amused yourself by making other people hate you if you were a Greengrass. It was just…stupid. Not to mention allying yourself completely and absolutely with Umbridge, who wasn't exactly the popular one among Hogwarts students. In fact, her credentials at the Ministry weren't even that good, according to her father…

Daphne rolled her eyes, something she had never done before in front of her best friend. "Really now," she said easily, rising from her seat and surprising several people. "I get that you're upset about Professor Umbridge, Pansy, but you can't honestly call getting butchered and hexed by a bunch of Potter's minions _real work_."

"We didn't get butchered!" screamed Pansy, standing up as well. "They cheated!"

"Then I guess you should have cheated back, shouldn't you?" snorted Daphne as if she did not particularly care. "Unlike you," she delivered immaculately, "I had more important things to do than make the entire school hate me. Like O.W.L.S." she continued, ignoring Pansy's expression. "I'm pretty sure I got at least nine, although I can't exactly say the same for you…"

Asteria hastily chose this time to depart swiftly back to her dormitories, keeping herself unseen. As much as she had brightened about Daphne rubbing egg in her friend's face, it would not be pretty afterwards, and she didn't want to hear any more.

But she did. Halfway up, she bumped into Bailey, who looked just as stunned to see her as Asteria was. She waved her hand impatiently, having obviously eavesdropped on the entire dispute below.

"…feel better in the morning when Draco gets better," Daphne's voice was saying with a note of sympathy that only Asteria noticed as being vaguely exasperated. "Don't worry…you should just get to bed." There was the sound of footsteps, and Bailey gave a squeal, dashing off in the direction of their room.

Asteria lingered, unsure of whether she wanted to talk to her sister, and in the end, decided to catch up on the news in the morning. And so she did. But it was nothing compared to what came out two days later.

* * *

_June 21, 1995. Morning._

"Sirius Black was murdered!" shouted a student from the Ravenclaw table at breakfast, as the sunlight streaming in carried multitudes of owls taking in bundles of letters and newspapers.

"What?" Asteria snatched unceremoniously at an indignant Morpheus's beak, gawping at the headline of the Daily Prophet. "No…" she said almost dreamily, her hands trembling. Asteria did not speak as she scratched through the entire length of the paper, soaking in every word.

Around her, every other voice had been subdued, every laugh silent. The entire Great Hall was lost, enraptured by the news delivered by the pages of the Prophet. Everyone was either reading, whispering, or staring out at nothing. Umbridge's absence at the staff table made the start of the day even more unusual.

"So it's really true?" asked Bailey nearby in a hushed voice as the voices in the Great Hall gradually began to break out again. Asteria glanced at her but did not bother with words. Out of all the rhetorical questions she had ever heard, this was indisputably the most ridiculous.

She scanned the papers again, holding her breath as she read the names of those arrested in the Department of Mysteries again. Nott. Crabbe. Avery. Malfoy. And just when everyone had thought they were cleared, all of them...

"You weren't really surprised, were you?" asked Bailey pompously, shoving the front page with the names into her face rudely. "I know I wasn't. They've been going down for the entire year."

Asteria tried not to point out that Bailey had been gushing around Draco Malfoy's "hotness" just a week before. "I suppose so," she said clearly, glancing around to search for her sister at the table. "Gosh, I wonder what's going to happen to _them_..."

"Who, their kids?" returned Bailey immediately, looking smug. "Well, I guess they're not going to be really popular around here, are they?"

Asteria turned her own eyes away from the other end of the breakfast table, feeling bothered by Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott's usual presence. She supposed they had taken it particularly badly, as was expected, and had retreated to somewhere quiet by now, away from the rumors and talk. Turning exasperatedly back to Bailey, Asteria knew exactly why she couldn't blame them. Some people, really...

"Hey, look, you have an owl coming," said Bailey suddenly, pointing up at the tawny owl who was furious zipping towards her, a letter in his beak. Many yards down, she saw Daphne getting the same package, and Asteria brightened as she saw the lofty Greengrass family insignia scrawled in the corner of the piece of parchment. She hastily tore in down the middle and unfolded a piece of hurriedly scrawled-on parchment.

_Dear Asteria,_

_I'm assuming you've heard. Several things I want to tell you now: firstly, the Umbridge woman has been removed from the position by the Ministry, no doubt on Dumbledore's orders. The Squad she runs has also been disbanded, all of which I am rather glad for, as I doubt she or it was any educational asset. _

_As usual, keep on reasonable terms with all, but take care to extend your courtesy to the other Houses even more. I realize you are in control of your own lives, but I will also urge you and your sister to take care to distinguish yourselves from Miss Parkinson and young Draco Malfoy. They may prove unwanted company in the years ahead. I am already working on clearing up my list of shaky connections here at the Ministry; we don't need any trouble. Your mother sends her best wishes, and we will both see you in a few days._

_Sincerely,  
Your father_

"Well, that's just rude!" said Bailey loudly in order to talk over the now thunderously chattering Great Hall, having apparently been reading over Asteria's shoulder the entire time, to her embarrassment. "I didn't know the Greengrasses _planned_ their friends...that's just mean, if you ask me."

"I'm sorry," replied Asteria swiftly, folding the parchment up and fuming inside. "I didn't know it was considered polite to read other people's letters without their permission." She glared at the other girl. "Is it something that runs in the Alexander family, maybe? What do your parents do for a living, stick their noses into other people's business?"

Bailey looked taken aback at the lack of customary manners, but recovered so quickly it could have been imagined. "Don't insult my parents," she hissed, jerking back. "And my family is doing much better than yours, thank you."

"Just don't read my letters, please," replied Asteria coolly, still unnerved. "Control yourself, will you?"

The other girl tossed her head and turned away.

Asteria groaned internally, tossing aside the breakfast plate in front of her and standing up. Over a few yards down, Daphne was too busy biting her lip calculatingly, no doubt thinking about the contents of her own letter, to have time to calm down an indignantly ranting Pansy, who was apparently freaking the heck out of the entire length of table. Asteria distantly wondered if her sister would actually severe ties with Pansy, thought she highly doubted it. Their dispute the previous night was about Umbridge advocation, and the pink cardigan was long gone by now. They had also been friends for years, and no doubt would be for more...

The thought, realistic though depressing, made Asteria lose her appetite even more. She started to head for the library, then gloomily remembered that Malfoy's sorrow group was in mourning in there. There was nothing interesting back in the dormitories, though it would have to do...

She waved to an oblivious Helen, who was still gawping with the rest of the Slytherin third-years, and began her walk back to the dungeons. Under normal circumstances, it would have been fairly pleasant, with no stuffiness or pushing students, but now the emptiness of the halls gave the castle an overall very heavy and dreading feel. Asteria reached the patch of clear wall that marked the entrance to the common room, muttering, "Lizard tails" as she did.

To her shock, when she proceeded to enter the common room, Asteria was greeted by a very painful collision into the wall. Something was denying her access. In her perplexion, she stumbled backwards slightly, and was even more dismayed to find that an evil yowling noise came from something bushy and thrashing under her feet; she quickly stood aside.

"Mrs. Norris?" she moaned, horrified as Filch's cat gave her one last nasty look and scampered away, no doubt to tattle on her. Asteria racked her brains, torn between wanting to figure out what was wrong with her password (did the Prefect lie this morning?) and wanting to escape before Filch arrived, and very quickly.

She chose the latter option, hurrying back to the Great Hall. After all, it wasn't as if there was anywhere else to go. When Asteria hastily straightened her robes and sat daintily back into her abandoned chair, Bailey turned around triumphantly and gave her a knowing look that suggested she had forseen Asteria's return, making her scowl.

The girl half-heartedly reached for a plate of raspberries, reasoning that if certain unpleasant creatures were to make the rest of the year miserable for her, she might as well be full. And avoid the unwanted company on the way. Because overall, this year had been one of disastrous teachers and vicious sentiments, and Asteria could only hope that things could get no worse.

* * *

_Yeah, I realize this is kind of…short and devoid of Malfoy, but the trio's fifth year and her third wasn't exactly a happy time for me. Quite frankly, I basically loathed it. It seemed a bit overly angsty, and I do hoped I made this chapter surly enough to match lol, but I promise the next won't be so bad hahaha. Would you oblige me with a kind-heartedly given review anyway?_


	8. Suspicious Actions

_A/N: Yeah, er, sorry for not updating sooner, but my family forced me to go on a bonding trip with them to go canoeing, so, uh...here's, at last, the (late) update! Sorry if it sucks after all this waiting, but...oh, woah, no...I didn't really mean that it sucked and you should stop reading. I only said that to lower your expectations so that you'd be stunned (into reviewing, wink-wink) after you finished. Heehee...so I now stand aside and introduce..._

* * *

**Suspicious Actions**

_December 20, 1996._

"Hell, he's combed his hair _twenty_ times already," hissed Nadine as they crouched dangerously close to Blaise Zabini's tall, unruffled figure behind the bathroom door.

Asteria clapped her palm to her face exasperatedly, desperately wanting to get out of the place. Nadine had made them come up to the _boys'_ dormitories, for Merlin's sake. And she was thinking no one would catch them. But it wasn't exactly as if Asteria could back out now…

"He wants to look good for the Christmas party, then, I suppose," Asteria said in what did not pass off correctly as a nonchalant voice, tugging in vain on her friend's adamant hand. "Please go, Nadine. I need you to help me get ready too." It was true; she had been admitted into the Slug Club just last week after a particularly pleasant Potions success, and Asteria was also dryly aware of the fact that the name 'Greengrass' would look quite good on a contact list these days. Daphne, however, had not been invited. But then again, Lilith Moon was the girl who had made it to N.E.W.T.S. level for Potions, and not her, so…

"No, you don't," returned Nadine snidely, still snickering at Zabini's excessive grooming. "My gosh, Asteria…now he's getting out his beauty potions. Woah, I didn't know he used that stuff…hey, so does Roderick-"

"His robes do look pretty nice on him," said Helen primly but muffling a giggle. "Gives him that really mysterious look, kind of. I wonder if he's trying to get a girl under the mistletoe or something…"

"Or he's just vain," said Nadine smugly, keeping her eyes glued to the crack in the door.

"Are you sure your Disillusionment Charm works?" tried Asteria one more time. She didn't have all that much faith in the vague scribbles Nadine had found in the old library book. Much less her friend's magical skills at such a high level. "And the ward on listeners?"

But no one seemed to hear her. Nadine and Helen continued goggling at Zabini, to Asteria's annoyance.

"Figure he really likes Ginny Weasley?" whispered a madly giggling Helen.

"No, no," said Asteria dismissively, wondering why people cared about this kind of stuff. She was starting to see why as she finally slid into the mood. "He just thinks she looks pretty, I think. Purely aesthetically. Although don't quote me on that if you see him having-"

"Oh, but she already has a date, doesn't she?" said Nadine enthusiastically, while she ducked momentarily to allow them a view of Zabini turning in front of the mirror dramatically. "That kid from your sister's year in Gryffindor, what's his name…?"

"Michael Corner?" suggested Helen vaguely, still staring in awe.

"Wait, no…" Asteria frowned calculatingly. "That's, ah, that was the Hufflepuff before him, I think…"

"No, he was a Ravenclaw, I'm pretty sure," interrupted Nadine. "Dang, how does she expect people to keep up with her business? She's, like, going through boys like water…"

"Ah, well." Asteria brushed it off. "At least she's not pining miserably on one guy."

"Like _her_," said Helen grudgingly. Everyone nodded fervently, knowing that it could only be a reference to Pansy.

Asteria was thoughtful. "I'm surprised she hasn't paid anyone to stalk him whenever he disappears on those random dates with Crabbe and Goyle," she said amusedly.

"Yeah," snickered Nadine. "Then she could follow him and they could all form their own foursome."

"Called the Mal Club," said Helen eagerly, who was not liking the fact that she was being ignored in the conversation.

They all laughed as silently as they could, something that apparently showed how much faith they put into Nadine's spellwork. She didn't seem annoyed, however, because at that moment, Zabini seemed to have finally gotten enough of grooming himself and was now lazily sweeping back for the door, panicking them all.

"Back out, Helen, now," commanded Nadine, looking scared. She obeyed quickly, and all of them were now pressed tightly against the wall as Zabini flaunted by.

"He's gone," breathed Asteria in relief as he finally disappeared off down to the common room.

"Yeah," said Nadine wearily, massaging her shoulder. "Now let's ju-"

"Someone else is coming!" said Helen suddenly. They tensed, ready to run.

"It's Snape, I think," said Nadine moaningly. "Oh, gosh, no…or someone else really tall…"

"Okay, then, run!" said Asteria in a painfully unhurried voice. She watched, frantic, as first Helen, then Nadine set off at a swift pace, quickly disappearing down the last of the stairs. She followed, also getting ready to continue to the first step when someone hassled brushed hastily past her, making her trip down several feet.

Asteria froze, not daring to breathe unless they might hear. But the person, strangely enough, didn't seem to see or even notice her. They pushed into the bathroom, looking as desperate as if they had just missed an appointment with the Minister. The door stayed close and Asteria made no move to remedy that.

Sighing, she picked her way more carefully down the staircase, soon joining Helen and Nadine, who were feigning nonchalance leaning against a couch in the common room.

"Did you see Malfoy?" demanded Nadine as soon as she was within earshot.

"That was him?" asked Asteria unbelievingly. "Because he doesn't really just…" She gestured for the raised eyebrows, trying to explain. "I mean, he doesn't run into bathrooms like his life depends on it…that's, I mean, well, it's just not his style, if you know what I mean."

"No," they said slowly together.

Asteria, annoyed, plastered a merry smile onto her face. "Ah, well, who cares?" she said in the Greengrass charming voice, actually surprised to find that she did, very slightly feel concerned. "I still have to get ready before eight."

They began walking for the real staircase they should have been using, the girls'.

"No date still, then?" asked Helen critically, matching their pace evenly.

"Of course not," answered Asteria sarcastically, walking a little faster. "That wouldn't be a very Slytherin thing to do, would it? I was thinking more that someone could pay me to invite them if they wanted to go, but no…apparently no one is willing to stoop that low or something, I don't know…"

The girls snorted appreciatively, finally hurrying into their dorm room, where Helen snapped the door shut.

"So no one can spy on_ us_," she explained at their curious glances. "We wouldn't want that, would we?" This was a bit hypocritical of a statement for someone who had just spent their last thirty minutes goggling from a door crack at someone else, but no one really cared. This wasn't the House of fairness, after all. They were all Slytherins here.

* * *

_February 1, 1996._

It was a good thing that Slughorn had favored her in his class, thought Asteria in the following weeks. The workloads were becoming even tighter and the teachers seemingly stricter, although it was true they did keep their light-hearted attitudes toward her when she presented her yearly professors and (especially) Slughorn their customary chocolate packages for February.

She had long ago learned not to try to with Snape, who had sneered in her face the first time and basically publicly humiliated her in front of the entire class. And Hagrid…well, Asteria told herself he didn't like Slytherins and would have refused anyway.

Unfortunately, one annoying Hufflepuff boy caught her as she scrambled to fish out the plant-shaped velvet box out of her school bag after their Herbology lesson.

"Trying to suck up again, are you, Greengrass?" he sneered, while his friends glowered meaningfully at her.

Asteria rolled her eyes. She had seen the mocking master at work (that is to say, Malfoy) too many times to fail to recognize a copying maneuver. The Hufflepuff's companions were positioned beside him in a way strangely reminiscent of Crabbe and Goyle's styles, and even his sneer seemed a bit lame when Asteria had heard Malfoy lazily roll out a thousand better insults with it. Confrontations just weren't for Hufflepuffs, she had decided on her second day at Hogwarts.

"Was that supposed to be offensive?" she asked mildly, turning her head only enough to let him know she had heard.

"You're sucking up to our professor!" insisted another boy Asteria recognized with a shock as the same round-faced student she had met informally on the Hogwarts Express her first day.

She tried to remain cool-headed. "I'm sorry?" she repeated, taking care to act as if their voices were too inferior for her ears. Which, of course, she reasoned, probably were. "I'm a Greengrass," she informed them smugly. "Which means that I don't 'do' suck-ups. It's called, ah-"

"Asteria!" exclaimed the warm voice of Professor Sprout. She came over, wiping her dirt-covered forehead with the back of her leather garden gloves. "Did you have a question?"

She couldn't resist smirking at the scowling faces of the three Hufflepuffs as she handed the fuzzy lime green box to Sprout, watching with an eager expression as her teacher accepted it slightly blushingly (well, what else could you do? Seize it unabashedly?) and beamed, giving her thanks.

It lifted Asteria's mood very noticeably as she headed towards the common room again, the pressure that had been on her mind all these weeks mitigated. She even felt the urge to begin humming, but she wasn't _that_ light-headed. Perhaps light-_haired,_ but-

She shook herself in irritation, feeling rather amused by the unintentional punning. She must really be in a good mood.

"Blood traitor," she remarked to the brick wall, and couldn't help but noticing how sparkling clean it was. When it admitted her, Asteria enjoyed herself by sweeping in with her chin raised just enough.

There was the usual scene. The first-years were lying on their stomachs near the staircases, having been banished from all the cozy spots by the big Quidditch players, who were taking up twice the space they should have in front of the fire. The boys from her year were grouped a little ways down, laughing as they discussed pranks and waved elaborately drawn maps of Hogwarts. Daphne had her blonde head kept down as she sat with her friends in a circle, Pansy next to her. Asteria assumed that her sister was still as close to the other girl as she had always been, although it was certainly true she had been making more of an effort to distance herself in public. And that didn't include the Slytherin common room.

She made her way cautiously to an empty armchair relatively near the chuckling fire, and found that she was basically sitting in a ring of unfamiliar Housemates. Asteria stared at them for a moment before opting to complete her assignments; no need to delay the inevitable. And she really did want to make Prefect next year…

"You're doing Transfiguration_ now_?" asked Nadine's hassled-sounding voice as she scooted her own chair closer from out of nowhere. Asteria nodded to acknowledge her presence and returned to focusing on her essay.

Her friend sounded glum. "Come on, Asteria, I wanted to talk to you. About other stuff."

"I could start on that Arithmancy chart with you now if you want to," offered Asteria, who privately thought the subject was a bit hard.

Nadine looked appalled. "It's a weekend!" she whined, looking a little cross. She paused to look Asteria over critically. "You should've gotten back when the sixth-years were still at their Apparition lesson," she said musingly. "The common room was, like…empty for once."

Asteria found that she didn't really care but couldn't seem to find a valid excuse for wanting to keep quiet. "Oh, well, you know," she said cheerily, "With Prefect badges being handed out next year I think it gets a little too stressful for fun and stuff like that."

Scowling, Nadine's shoulders fell, obviously annoyed with her. "Prefect?" she said incredulously, standing up. "You're worried about that now?"

"It's our last year before they're given out," said Asteria desperately, clutching her quill. "Then after that it's already time for O.W.L.S. and Head honors! This isn't a relaxation break of whatever, I'm been worried about this for the entire year now-"

"Oh, fine," said Nadine huffily, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder. "But I was going to tell you…" She stopped and let a slow smile spread across her face. "Trent asked me out!"

"Oh…wow." Asteria felt a little envious for a moment, forgetting all about her Prefect anxieties and wondering wistfully what it must have been like. Admittedly, pure-bloods did not usually openly "date" each other, as it made complications come up later on when they were married, and especially not in Slytherin House, as this was the most reserved and self-reliant House, and least likely to show open emotion. It was also true, however, that the older seventh and sixth years tended to be seen touching and purring luxuriously at each other all over the couches nowadays (puberty, she had thought grimly after walking in on Daphne giggling in a seventh-year boy's arms one day), regardless of who owned who, unless you were Pansy Parkinson and pined after Malfoy, of course. Asteria hoped her friend wouldn't become like that. "What are you doing?"

"Next Hogsmeade visit!" she announced happily. At that moment, both girls frowned, looking away from each other, because a little commotion had apparently arisen near the entrance of the common room.

Draco Malfoy had just slid in surreptitiously, the first sign that something was strange. He had always preferred a loud arrival, and his customary swagger and satisfied smirk was absent. Instead, he looked as he had been for weeks: paler, the gauntness about his face enhancing the sharp features, and his white blonde hair messier and looking as if it hadn't been groomed properly since Pansy had last stroked it back a week ago on the couch.

Secondly, Crabbe was apparently quarreling with him, as he had been growling something threatening when they stepped in, and his voice was the source of all the attention-drawing noise.

Goyle looked a little awkward on Malfoy's right, as if torn between his friends. He did what he usually did…he stayed quiet and grunted in agreement occasionally. Asteria actually felt a surge of sympathy for him. Crabbe and Goyle's separate personalities were at last showing, but it put him in a bad place.

Malfoy looked furious, and stalked past the circle of sixth-year girls, where Pansy had stood up and extended her hand with a rapt expression on her face, as if thinking it could comfort him. Crabbe and Goyle hovered near the girls uncertainly for a moment, then lumbered after him after a second thought to an inconspicuous corner several yards away from Asteria and Nadine, who were, like the rest of the Slytherins were trying to do, discreetly keep their eyes trained on them while appearing utterly uninterested.

But if they had hoped for a further spectacle, they were disappointed, although no one showed it, as no one was technically supposed to be looking anyway. Malfoy simply pulled out some charts and diagrams from his robes (which looked streaked by dust and dirt…more than it had in the previous years, at least) and huddled over them, bending his white blonde head over as Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, seemingly contributing their own brainpower to whatever scheme or plan he was hatching. It was a very conspiratorial scene, but with nothing striking.

"What do you reckon they're doing?" whispered Nadine, fascinated. Her eyes were glued on the left page of Asteria's Transfiguration textbook, and her curtain of dark curls created a barrier between her eyes and the trio.

Asteria mused, rapping the quill's end smartly on her parchment as she began to scrawl in her neat, small writing, her eyes keen only on her essay. "I think he might be injured," she said meaningfully. "His hand keeps flying to his left elbow, don't you see?" She nodded, dipping her quill into the ink again.

"No, I didn't," said Nadine in a hushed voice of wonder, her gaze still riveted on the page. She was even traveling down the lines and occasionally flipping a page. "Hey, you're right, Asteria…I never saw that. But yeah, that's weird…you think he might have splinched himself?" Her voice grew excited, tensing, and softer as the entire common room also quieted down. "Maybe that's why he was late back? And maybe Crabbe was fussing over him?"

The mental image of a motherly Crabbe was so unrealistic that Asteria snorted into her parchment. "Or Potter attacked them," she joked.

Malfoy, meanwhile, had whispered something furiously into Crabbe's ear, something that made Crabbe recoil, seemingly in disgust, which interested Asteria. Whatever could make even Crabbe disgusted had to be pretty disgusting…

"I think he's talking about you," said Nadine quietly after a while of unapparent watching.

"What?" asked Asteria, horrified. "Me? How me-"

But she never got to finish, because then, Malfoy gave Crabbe a hard shove, and instead of toppling over, the other boy grunted and dusted himself off before clambering in the direction of the two girls. Malfoy looked pleased as Crabbe approached them.

"Oh, no," gulped Nadine, ducking her head. "I think he noticed us. Now he's sending Crabbe to beat you up, oh, gosh, no-"

"Can I have a strand of your hair, Greengrass?" asked Crabbe sulkily, looking shifty-eyed as he stood before them.

Asteria nearly toppled out of her chair. "My hair?" she asked breezily, feeling her stomach roll nauseatingly as people turned to watch…openly. "Oh, no, Crabbe, you wouldn't want a strand of my hair, I haven't washed it in _days_…months, even…" This was a complete lie, and Asteria's wobbly smile proved it.

Crabbe hovered there, looking suspicious. After a few seconds, he glanced back at a flushing Malfoy, who twisted his fingers in midair elaborately before palming his forehead. This somehow made Crabbe blush even heavier.

"I, uh, I like you, uh, Asteria. Can I have a hair?" droned Crabbe, as if reciting a script. Behind him, Malfoy gritted his teeth in frustration and vented it by aiming a curse at a chair leg.

Asteria's smile shrunk a bit more. "Of course though," she said too quickly, but she was eager to be rid of Crabbe. Merlin forbid he really liked her though…the thought of a Crabbe in love with her and with Malfoy as his guidance counselor was not a pretty one. In fact, it was fairly hideous…

She yanked a silvery blonde thread from her head and handed it over to him, controlling herself so that she wouldn't jerk her hand away too swiftly. It didn't work, however, and Asteria secretly didn't care. She was even gladder when Crabbe's piggish eyes lit up in glee and he zoomed back away to rejoin Malfoy, who was smiling and looking more satisfied. Asteria tried to ignore Nadine's muffled giggles.

"Wait, so he _likes_ you?" she choked after a while, still darting glances at the trio in the corner, who were now bent over discussing something.

"That was creepy," said Asteria immediately. "Like, that was the creepiest thing that's ever happened to me. Ever. I'm serious, Nadine. That was-that was, like, I mean-"

But no one heard her stutter. Nadine's jaw was dropping, and she elbowed Asteria painfully in the side, causing her to wince (even more).

"Wait…" she said slowly, looking coy. "No, I take that back, Asteria…and so do you, I bet. No…no way…but your situation might not be as…as grim as you take it."

"What do you mean?" asked Asteria, settling for a cold voice to keep herself hopefully as unruffled as Zabini could be.

Nadine turned back to her. "I mean," she explained, "That hair was for Malfoy. He's the one that likes you. Crabbe was just doing the dirty work for him." She gestured excitedly. "I just saw him slip it to Malfoy, and he looked really triumphant."

"Ha, ha…" said Asteria incredulously, pretty sure she would have to reject that theory. Another pointless product of her friend's over-romantic mind. "No, actually, Nadine. You don't look like you've just been granted the Elder Wand when your crony's sweaty hand gives you a pathetic hair from someone you've never held a real conversation with before…and plus, he has Pansy, hasn't he?" she suggested loftily, glancing at her sister's friend.

To say that Pansy Parkinson was sobbing would have been an understatement. Her friends circled her, crooning words of soothing, and Daphne flicked her glance up to meet Asteria's, her lips twitching for just the smallest of seconds.

But Pansy found herself having to double over in tears more and more as the week wore on. Malfoy kept muttering at his bodyguards to accost more and more random girls, none of whom were above fourth year, and collect their hairs. These girls, unfortunately, tended to suffer disastrous conditions. For one, those who had never laid eyes on Malfoy properly before the meeting suddenly became besotted with him, following him around in pairs like female versions of Crabbe and Goyle. Indeed, they tended to inherit Crabbe and Goyle's intelligence levels as well, grunting more in his company and speaking much less.

Malfoy would issue incoherent and whispered instructions, then all three of them would suddenly weave through the crowds and disappear off for hours. Malfoy would often returned to the common room late at night after these detours; Asteria stayed up to twelve to study these days, and soon became accustomed to his sudden stumbling-ins, with his eyes haunted and his entire body shaking with exhaustion and defeat.

But even so, she did not expect others to take note of these things with so drastic of reactions. But this was Pansy, thought Asteria tiredly, so she would have to take other factors into consideration as well, she supposed…

"…and Draco hasn't been eating properly either!" announced Pansy indignantly at breakfast, stabbing her porridge with something that resembled a pitchfork of evil. She pointed her wand at the utensil again, and it regrew the necessary teeth.

Daphne was attempting to comfort her friend without appearing to the non-Slytherin public that she was, meanwhile. "I'm sure he's fine," she said reassuringly. "He's probably just going through a phase, you know…"

"He's collecting other girls' hairs!" cried Pansy, abandoning all decorum, and several Ravenclaws idly raised a head to look. She took no notice of them, and chose to glare at one of them, an utterly bemused first-year girl Asteria recognized as someone Malfoy had, through Goyle, demanded a hair from. She tried not to look too much liked she cared about the girls' conversation; it wasn't a gratifying feeling to be categorized as a gossiping kind of person.

Lilith Moon took action. "Look, Pansy," she said wisely, "He's trying to prove to himself that no other girl can possibly be as good and golden as you are for him. I mean, it's obvious you two were just made for each other…I think Draco loves you. You should tell him how you feel too soon," she advised. Asteria sniggered, recognizing the last line as a word-for-word from Witch Weekly's latest wizard trouble column.

But Pansy perked up, seduced by the idea of a boy sick over love for her. "Really?" she breathed, clutching the fork to her chest as if it were all of the gold in Gringotts.

"Really," confirmed Lilith Moon, looking a little queasy now. Daphne was almost looking not so composed at this point, and the other girls seemed grimmer as well. But Pansy was happy, and her gaze slid over the negative second-thoughts signs.

And so she resumed her ramble about Malfoy's condition, and breakfast resumed.

* * *

_A/N: Next...I'm planning the Malfoy's laceration chapter. Dun dun dun. Oh, and I would also LOVE to sob my heart out with gratitude to Moon Archer, slythandromeda, backseatgoodbyeislife, bored-now0809, ElaineAbbene, MissCanada, ari11990, David Fishwick, and JennyMc for caring enough to review. Also to those who've favorited and/or alerted this story, I love you. Also to those who've been (wink) meaning to review soon...(drives guilt into hearts of current (annoyed at unsubtle hints) readers)_


	9. Pansy Goes Paranoid

_A/N: Ah, finally, I have updated. Yeah, about that. But I actually have a valid excuse...see, I just had my first _ever_ day of high school today, and it was, like...contagious. I mean, like, I mean, like, I literally, like caught on the, like, methods of, like, speaking others, like, use, and like, got lost on the campus...thingy, like, four whole times, suffered from the horridities of the, like, cafeteria food, accidentally challenged a teacher's authority (by daring to ask her to repeat a too-subdued question. Gassssp!), um, let's see...oh, yeah, and like, finding my schedule completely messed up by the totally incompetent school counselors who refuse to admit it (glares) Yeah, not to mention the pressure from all those soooo optional (yeah, right) clubs, tournaments, musical competitions, and volunteering (wipes bead of sweat nervously away)! Since apparently grades aren't enough in high school (gnashes teeth) But enough about my frivolous mournings (indeed, feel free/forced to snap me into perspective with your own dreadful first high school days...I await them) and on to the thanks: ToxicRainfall, thebrunetteone, tofucakes, 6aNgElIcA9, TheRealSlytherinPrincess, and Evans17 (in addition to the previously mentioned benefactors, of course) for brighting and lighting my days and evenings with their lovely words of wonder. You know...the ones that _you_, like, YOU will give also soon...eh? Eh? EH?

* * *

_

**Pansy Goes Paranoid**

_May 6, 1996._

"How are we supposed to 'unravel our fates in the patterns of the stars' when we're also supposed to 'acknowledge that our destinies have been fore written in the constellations centuries before we've ever been born'?" ranted Helen insanely as they lugged their books down the corridors, having just regrouped after lessons.

Asteria nodded sympathetically, fully aware that her friend had already complained about this before. "Well, you see, Helen," she said suddenly, a gust of inspiration coming her way as Professor Vector strode down the hall in their direction.

"What?" the other girl muttered, still sulking about the self-contradicting secrets of Divination.

"It's simple, isn't it?" said Asteria loudly, smiling patiently. "You should have taken another class, like Nadine and I did. Take Arithmancy, for instance. It's the best subject, really, and Professor Vector makes sure the atmosphere is perfect."

"I thought you said that was Charms, though," returned a still-gloomy Helen, who had evidently not seen the Arithmancy professor passing through.

Asteria scowled slightly, but recovered quickly. "Never mind that," she reassured, but feeling not so happy all the same.

Classes had been going for weeks at the same excruciating pace, slow and homework-filled. The teachers seemed to be going through some kind of panic mode these days, and apparently their way of venting was to assign even more work. Professor Binns, for example, would give out essays on goblin riots that took place during full moons only, and Sinistra had begun the habit of keeping a True-Length Quill, something that measured the actual quantity in an essay, which made fluffing up information and writing largely impossible to get away with.

Asteria found all this very well; it certainly raised the standards for Prefect, thus eliminating all pathetic competitors and guaranteeing her position next year.

"So Nadine's still with Trent?" asked Helen now, snapping out of her sulk. She glanced around, only to see that she was right. "My gosh, she's a little obsessed, isn't she? It's been, what, a month…?"

"It's the hormones," announced Asteria dramatically, itching to know when their next break was. Her brain was still turning from all the calculations. "And don't we have a break now?"

She had just successfully dislodged a much-folded grubby piece of parchment from the inside cover of Helen's textbook when several shrilly horrified screams echoed down the far end of their corridor.

Two figures were making their way down towards them at a rather quick speed, and they could not have made more of a contrast.

Snape was the taller one, his greasy black hair framing his face, which was now blankly cold. He was supporting a staggering Draco Malfoy, whose face was even paler, shaking jerkily, and drawing in gasping breaths. His face, neck, and torn robes were soaked in something that looked like fresh blood, and scars tore across just about every bit of skin Asteria could see. Malfoy appeared not to see the girl running after him and shouting.

"Draco, are you all right? Who did this to you?" demanded Pansy Parkinson in a high-pitched voice as she caught up breathlessly, moving as if to cradle his head. Several drops of blood splattered onto the ground as they passed, and Asteria, fascinated with horror, stepping neatly out of their way.

Snape turned around, looking disgusted for a moment. "I expect Mr. Potter will be returning to the scene of their unfortunate duel shortly," he announced maliciously. "But in the meantime, you would not want young Draco here to perish of blood loss and exhaustion, would you, Miss Parkinson? So I suggest you kindly step aside before I am forced to knock you to the ground in our haste to reach the hospital wing in time."

Pansy spluttered something indignantly but shrank away all the same, her hands still outstretched. Tracey Davis hurried forwards and led her friend back, and the two began to whisper rapidly, squealing about this latest development. In time Daphne, Lilith, and Millicent caught up as well, and Daphne cast Asteria a very anxious look that suggested they would have no choice but to visit Malfoy in the hospital wing again soon.

Helen, meanwhile, was aghast. "It looks pretty real this time, doesn't it?" she said in a hushed whisper.

Asteria, for once, didn't quite know what to say. "Well, it d-doesn't look too fatal, does it?" she stammered, lowering her voice as the students all around them began debating on Potter's morals, the scene of the duel, and Malfoy's condition in a cacophonic mess of shouted demands and loud questions. The speculations and discussions of the almost-killing trailed down the length of all the Hogwarts corridors, and in just half an hour, the entire school had heard about the big incident.

Astera paused, wondering whatever happened to the quiet, undisturbed academic atmosphere of a few minutes ago.

* * *

Pansy was completely rabid.

"It was Potter!" she shrilled lividly, waving her arms, as if the statement needed to be empathized. Asteria noticed Daphne surreptitiously slinking away from her friend, as if to dissociate herself from someone so mad. It was too bad it wouldn't be permanent, she thought wistfully.

"Okay, we heard!" shouted a seventh-year Gryffindor student who looked both unbelieving and heartbroken. "Shut up, will you, Parkinson? And stop blowing out all our eardrums for your boyfriend…"

The other girl spluttered indignantly. "I'm sorry?" she shot back. "For your information, I'm just worried about his wounds. Anyone would be, did you see how _savage_ those scars were? What he did to Draco?"

Everyone winced, and the Gryffindor boy grimaced, but this time no one contradicted her as she continued painting barbaric tales of Potter.

It grew a little less severe after several minutes however, when apparently Pansy needed a water break. But she became the most subdued when she nervously and thrillingly decided it was time to visit the hospital wing the next day after Crabbe and Goyle's party had brought back reports.

"Chill a little," advised Tracey soothingly, patting her ringleader on the back. "He'll be fine."

"Of course," said Daphne understandingly. Around her, Millicent Bulstrode and Lilith Moon added their murmured agreements. Everyone instinctively turned to look at Asteria, who was not used to having to constantly keep up with Pansy's moods.

"Yes?" she said curiously, feeling all eyes on her. Daphne had suggested she come up as well; after all, it was only fitting that Pansy's best friend show her sympathy by taking even her younger sister. "Oh, um, yeah. Of course, Pansy," she added lamely, finally catching on.

The sixth-year looked a little calmer. But just a little. "Okay," she squealed, as if summoning courage. They stopped before the next turn led into the patients' beds, and Asteria had to marvel at how silent it was this time, devoid of any at all tragic moans or ostentatious suffering.

She cautiously proceeded in after the other girls, and was surprised to find that Madame Pomfrey was still standing inside, fussily dabbing a steaming liquid onto Malfoy's cheekbones with the end of her wand. She looked up only enough to smile exasperatingly at the girls arrival, but otherwise declined to comment and went on attending to her patient.

Pansy actually looked shocked by this and for a wild moment Asteria had a scary feeling she would knock Hogwarts' healer out of the way to reclaim her Draco. But fortunately enough, she only scowled and strode imperiously over to the edge of the bed, looking as if she wished she was in it too. Asteria flushed slightly at the thought.

"Good morning, Madame Pomfrey!" declared Pansy girlishly, batting her eyelashes and looking sweetly up at the nurse in a way that made her frown. "I was wondering if Draco was ready for a…private visit?"

Madame Pomfrey, Asteria was pleased to see for some unknown reason, brusquely continued to bustle about and trace over Malfoy's wounds. "I don't know who told you young ladies that this patient is taken care of, but these scars will take at least-" She frowned appraisingly. "Two days at the least, I'd guess. They've gone quite deep, you know…"

Pansy was looking desperate now. "But I thought the hospital wing was open to visitors now!" she cried, alarmed. Asteria noticed that she held a clutch of pink flowers in a prettily tied ribbon at her waist.

"Well…" Madame Pomfrey critically looked Malfoy over, then dubiously glanced over Pansy, as if suspicious she would bring harm to her patient. "I suppose it is," she answered curtly. "And seeing as Mr. Malfoy here could seriously do with some extra care, please hold these for me." And she pushed several jars of murky brown paste into Pansy's arms, making her look scandalized.

"This is…servant's work!" she spluttered, looking horrified. Asteria smiled in amusement until she too was handed two large, sticky-looking brushes that looked as if they had been dipped in blood.

"I just came to…I'm not really…visiting," she tried lamely, attempting to shake it off. But apparently she did qualify as a visitor, and quite soon, all the girls had been handed some kind of healing asset, all of which looked very grubby and suspicious.

"What is this stuff?" wailed Lilith Moon, who was eyeing Malfoy now, not with worry, but rather with apprehension. "We're not, you know, professional healers or anything…"

Madame Pomfrey, now looking more cheerful, waved her hand as if to clear that concern. "Oh, nonsense!" she said happily. "It's very kind of you to volunteer for this. I never thought this healing would be easy, of course…the depth of those cuts!" She straightened and set off to instructing them.

"Now, what's your name?" she promptly asked Tracey Davis.

"Davis," she replied warily. "Tracey. Ma'am."

"Good, now, Tracey, why don't you unbutton Mr. Malfoy's shirt right there? I think we could start working on the wounds right around his collarbones…"

Tracey's face lit up, and she began to look rather delighted. Pansy, meanwhile, was scowling enough to squeeze her eyeballs out. The first girl tiptoed excitedly to the bedside, and she began to fumble with the buttons of the linen shirt Malfoy had been changed into.

"My dear," huffed Madame Pomfrey impatiently as Pansy began to glower. "I don't think this is a very good time for you to take your time, do you?" As Tracey blushed and Asteria silently snickered, she brushed Tracey's hands away and speedily undid the buttons.

Asteria unconsciously jerked back at the sight of Malfoy's chest, and even Pansy's earlier fluttering sobered into a gasp of horror; the flesh was cut open at just about every angle, and despite Professor Snape's hasty healing, was still faintly washed with a sheen of still-wet blood. Everyone one recoiled, and Asteria felt slightly nauseated herself.

"You see injuries each day," said the nurse grandly yet tragically. "But almost never do they reach this level of viciousness…ah, you dear, hand me that big brush right there, please…"

Asteria complied quickly, rather glad to be relieved of the sticky, dripping thing. She watched anxiously as Madame Pomfrey stroked the wounds once, twice, then let it go, knitting the cuts together slowly but surely. It was a painstaking task, but Asteria could see how people derived satisfaction from the results.

After about ten minutes or so, Madame Pomfrey shook herself off, sent the items zipping back into their shelves with a wave of her wand, then gave a content nod.

"That should do it," she announced huffily, looking weary. "You may remain here for five minutes, and no more. I do still have a little Ravenclaw boy suffering from a nosebleed in the far end of the hall, no doubt some Weasley's Wizardly Wheezes item gone wrong…" Shaking her head sadly, Madame Pomfrey bustled out of the room murmuring dramatically about foolish children harming themselves and shut the door behind her.

There was a moment's pause, in which Pansy began to beam again. "Oh, goodness," she gushed, patting her hair. "You don't think Draco's going to wake soon, do you? Because I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want him seeing my hair all like this…"

Asteria felt a spurt of annoyance and resisted the urge to inform the other girl that if she were Malfoy, she would not want to see Pansy whatever her hair was like. Instead, she settled for a breezy, "No, I'm sure Madame Pomfrey would have put him under a sleeping potion."

But this seemed to achieve the opposite effect. Pansy's shoulders drooped, and she began to look quite angry. "Oh, and she didn't even give a care what _I_ thought, did she? Poor Draco, all alone in his dreams about me…" The last part was hushed and whispered, and the other girls had to pretend they didn't hear it.

Daphne nodded solemnly, a change for her. "I'm sure he'll be fine enough with you at his side," she comforted her friend. Everyone else hastily added their concurring thoughts as well.

A dreamy smile came over Pansy's features as she pulled a chair up to Malfoy's bedside and sat down lovingly, so that she could gaze down at Malfoy's rather bitter sleeping expression. "Potter's going to pay for this, of course," she said bossily, letting her fingers possessively twist into his blonde hair, which now held a silvery tint under the morning's sunlight.

Asteria only half-listened, feeling slightly awkward where she was standing. She had felt sorry for Malfoy, but almost everyone did now. It wasn't as if she had felt comfortable visiting him like some old friend anyway…it was just like last time, except here Pansy was the one gloating-

"-make sure he'll never get away with this cleanly!" Pansy was insisting heatedly. "Of course the entire school already knows by now, but he can't just keep his-his happy-hero image! I mean, it's not like we're going to make Draco sound…_wimpy_ or anything…just, just-"

"Keep it subtle?" suggested Lilith, who had been eyeing Pansy's grooming hand with either envy or thinly veiled disgust.

"No, no," decided her leader, cocking her head to one side as she smiled indulgently down at a still unconscious Malfoy. "We can't make this subdued, you know, Lilith? We need something big, but only so that it puts Potter in a bad light, Merlin knows we can't have anything against Draco that makes _him_ look bad…"

Asteria exchanged a glance with her sister, but Daphne had begun to eagerly join in the discussion as well. It would have been rather interesting…hearing Pansy plot her gossip techniques was not something Asteria thought was possible. In fact, had she been elsewhere else, someplace where she felt less 'out of it', perhaps she would have even relished listening to the plans and so on, but her current place felt so…awkward.

Pansy was displaying quite open affection, for one, even if the subject of her attentions was in a drugged sleep. And if just one other person was outside in the halls now…Asteria's insides squirmed as she imagined how it would look to be seen sitting among people talking about such things…

Thankfully enough, as soon as five minutes was up, Madame Pomfrey returned hurriedly to the room for yet another checkup and ushered them out, to a tearful Pansy. She did, however, set the tied sash of pink blossoms on his bedside. A romantic gesture, thought Asteria, although it lacked the romantic part. The flowers looked as if they would be wilting by the time Malfoy came to…but then again, there were already enough other small presents and treats in the accumulating pile by the table to keep him otherwise occupied.

The other girls chattered fretfully down the winding stairs, Daphne's voice among them subdued compared to Pansy's loud ones. Asteria winced at the commotion, also slightly haughty that they had crowded her to leave last.

She lingered in the doorway, glancing back one more time at the still-recovering Malfoy, wondering if her visit had been sour and unpleasant because of him or Pansy. Usually she would associate the two names almost instinctively, the two people she had grown accustomed to jeering at others together because of the events of last year, when Umbridge had united many of the Slytherin further.

But now she couldn't help but notice a very distinctive gap between the two sixth-years. Asteria had always defended Daphne (subtly, of course) whenever anyone lumped her with Pansy Parkinson; it was only natural as a sisterly action, and besides, Asteria did know Daphne, and she may have taken interests also in gossiping and teasing others, but she didn't mean to it heart and take savage happiness from it like Pansy did.

And Malfoy. He had always been the person everyone stopped in the corridors to listen to. Perhaps it was because it was inevitable, seeing how incredibly smooth and composed he could be while his targets turned red and underwent raging spasms of anger. And he was a witty person, anyone could see that, and combined with his perceptive observations, his drawled insults could be very hurtful, and they certainly had the effect. Asteria had often been glad her sister was who she was and she was in the House she was in solely for the reason of avoiding that.

But the two had never seemed more different, especially since Pansy was up and rambling and Malfoy was…well, down and breathing shallowly. And Pansy was reasonably secure family-wise, while Malfoy was…not, decided Asteria. That was simply it.

She even felt a bit sorry for him. Perhaps she would send him some flowers too, Asteria thought.

Then the full horror of the thought struck her as she tripped on a stair, and sense and logic returned back to her mind in a flood. _Flowers_? She had been about to send Draco Malfoy _flowers_? She gritted her teeth, feeling incredibly stupid.

They would wilt, first of all. Second of all, someone delivering them (even if it was just a house-elf) would get the wrong idea… Thirdly, Pansy might be offended that Asteria had either stolen her idea or, well, intended to steal her darling. Fourthly, Malfoy himself could also get the wrong idea. In short, puberty and hormones had messed with almost everyone's minds and basically made sure they would all have no way except to get the wrong idea.

Asteria flushed slightly at the thoughts; perhaps some simple delicacy package would suffice. _Flowers_, she told herself mildly, _are always going to be perceived as romantic no matter what the giver intends. And even by the giver if you're not careful, _she added thoughtfully.

Because she had, just for a moment back there, experienced something strange and of the sort. It must have either been the thoughts of flowers, influence from Pansy's girlish chattering, or even thinking so much about the matter, because for a very split second back there, Asteria could have sworn she had gotten the wrong idea about her feelings as well.

She hastily shook herself to clear her head and hurried back to the common room to prepare for her next class. It was amazing what damage even pity could do to somebody's mind. And she needed her mind to win that badge for next year.

* * *

_A/N: That implies that the next chapter will whiz to the time of her fifth year, but as of now I'm still unsure. I'm also not planning to rush "the" feelings anytime soon. But, well, I'm sending subtle hints to not make future !!!s seem overly improbable. Hm. Right, and also, I've tried soliciting reviews via death threats, comparing non-reviewers to unintelligent Potterverse beings, and even groveling at your feet. And even guilting. But noooo...apparently the keys are...still...just...too...faaaarrrrr...(chokes, foams at mouth, and dies from sheer effort of clicking review button, typing cruddy one-liner, and sending review)_


	10. Homenum Revelio

_A/N: Ah, I guess the first sign that I haven't updated in a while is that I don't know if I haven't updated in a while, being unable to remember the date of my last update, but uh, ahem. Now for my gushy thanks and hysterically grateful ramblings...I_ so _need to thank, in addition to anyone I've already mentioned, HarryGinny465, Angelique Aurealis, Ravenhaired2, Twilightparamorepenguin, and OurLoveIsForever for their heartbreakingly beautiful reviews. As well as ToxicRainfall for her very hilarious and insightful descriptions of Draco worship lol. And on to the chapter..._**

* * *

**

**Homenum Revelio**

_September 9, 1997_.

Part of the benefits that came with being appointed by Prefect (even if it probably was just by Snape and not Dumbledore, like it should have been, thought Asteria bitterly) was being permitted to hold and use an especially reserved and particularly lavish bathroom on the fifth floor of the school. Truth be told, it wasn't even that big of a deal in her life, what with all the demanding class work requiring hours of additional research and study (it wasn't as if she owned a handy textbook about the _Dark Arts_, for Merlin's sake), but the bathrooms were a fabled wonder among the Prefects, and Asteria had never reallyseen inside them anyway.

She would have gone sooner to explore them, but ever since there had been a rumor going on that perverted seventh-year boys knew Charms that could penetrate enchanted bathroom walls and used it to watch their fill (Daphne later confirmed this story false) from outside, Asteria had been more than nervous of warming up to all her new Prefect privileges.

But as it turned out, there _were_ problems concerning intruders. Just not the kind she expected.

Asteria carefully pushed open the unfamiliar door and drew back, impressed at the spacious, utterly luxurious golden cups of floating multicolored candles, elegant silver sweep of empty pool-sized bathtub, and exquisitely placed marine-related paintings all looking as welcoming and warm as anything could. She beamed involuntarily, feeling spoiled. Of course, it wasn't as if Greengrass Estate didn't have better, it was just that here at Hogwarts, this kind of thing was hardly likely…

Still admiring the softly lit aquatic-themed room, Asteria firmly locked the door (multiple times) and eagerly peered into the forest of faucets, soon filling the bathing ring with pleasantly scented bubbles and water of all varieties. Variety was good. She even felt kind enough to spare poor Daphne the non-Prefect a second thought. Imagine never being able to use this place, she thought indulgently as she hastily turned off a hysterically green-bubble-gushing tap.

Asteria unhurriedly disrobed, placing a nice clean towel on the tiled surface for afterwards, and took a warm, soft bathroom off a nearby pile. Now the only thing she had to worry about was whether she might splash her robes wet, the fact that she might crash painfully into the other far side since she could barely see through all the foam for even a few inches, and-

"Draco!" squealed an excited voice from the edge of the pool.

Asteria fumbled and stumbled, almost having a heart attack. Hastily, she racked her brains, which was hard to do in this particular instant. What was that spell thing again…

"Homenum revelio!" she shouted, grabbing her wand from the pocket of her school robes and waving it desperately through the air, as if slicing something. "Homenum rev-"

And suddenly something was forming, taking strange shape at the brink of the pool. Something that resembled a girl with a scowling, gloomy face and thick outdated and oversized spectacles. Something that reminded her unbelievably of Moaning Myrtle. But that wasn't possible, was it? Since when did she come into other bathrooms? And since when did she get on first-name terms with Malfoy…? Not even Daphne was-

"Oh, you had to do that, didn't you?" the ghost ranted passionately, swerving her transparent self alarmingly close to Asteria. "Poor Myrtle makes one mistake and you just have to persecute her and humiliate her just because she wanted a friend to visit her more often! Just because she made one error because both your stupid robes have to be all black and green! Just because you're a living human you have to make fun of _me_-"

Good Merlin, thought Asteria exasperatedly, her wand hand falling to her side again. Won't she shut up?

"-and rub it in, don't you? You couldn't just let it go, could you? You could have waited for me to float down through the drains and pipes back to my toilet, but _nooo_, you _had_ to catch me and remind me that I-I ca-can't do magic like _you_, and I'm only a ghost, and not even an actual human, but I _still_ get dragged out here t-to see you laugh at me…ohhh…" she moaned.

"I think you're overreacting a little," said Asteria irritably, feeling rather stupid as she stuffed her wand back into her pockets. "I'm not going to laugh at you, and you can go back and rot in your precious little toilet all you want, just stop spying on me when I'm-"

"You?" shrilled Myrtle, jabbing a finger at Asteria as she dived forward. "You? Who'd want to spy on you?!"

Asteria was rather offended to have had her physical appearance degraded by a ghost, a Muggle-born ghost, too, at that, whose robes were…well…She allowed her gaze to trail disdainfully over Myrtle. "Plenty of people, I assume," she answered loftily, secretly hoping there were none. "Although I'm pretty sure I can't say the same about _you_-"

At this point something weird happened. Moaning Myrtle began to smile dreamily, looking very secretive indeed, and it widened into a conspiratorial grin. "Draco did," she giggled, clutching her heart as if someone special dwelt in there. "He lets me. Whenever he takes his baths here, he lets me stay here, although he never lets me too near him because I would _see_ him-" The ghost looked extremely put out. "-but we talk. Or at least we used to. It's not even fair!" Myrtle suddenly began whining very piteously. "The only time I ever got to talk with him while he was bathing in here was the first time when he actually tried to kick me out…" Her face changed, and Asteria's felt a bit nauseated. "…but oh, I persuaded Draco to let me stay for the rest of the five minutes. But it was sad, because he finished rather quickly, and he made me close my eyes too…just like _he_ did, almost like they're secretly ganging up against me…" The last words were muttered under Moaning Myrtle's breath in a disappointed and irked tone.

"Wait, so did you actually do it? Or did you just watch him…ah, get out anyway?" asked Asteria carefully, looking down and clearing her head just in case a mental image sprang to her mind most unpleasantly.

The glum-looking girl looked even more depressed, if that was possible. "Yes," she replied in a surly voice, apparently forgetting that Asteria had been supposedly rude to her. "I had to, didn't I? He Charmed out this Blinding Fog…must have known…" And thankfully for Asteria, the rest trailed off.

"I see," she said loudly, hoping that Myrtle would take the hint to leave. Now.

"…he's so clever too," she was continuing to say with an adoring expression. "And so wonderful. But he has so many things going against him…so many troubles…or at least he did last year, since now he never comes to find me anymore…" She shot Asteria a look that implied Asteria was begging her to reveal Malfoy's secrets. "And no, I won't tell you what those are. I wasn't even going to tell you anything. Just because I thought he came again. Oh, but then I find it's just _you_…"

Asteria glanced around in exasperation. "Can you just leave? Please?" she asked coolly, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. "Because I've enjoyed your company and all, but I really need-"

"Oh, fine, fine," answered Myrtle sourly, and she whizzed off to some distant water source, disappearing from the room with a huge splash.

There was a moment of silence. Then finally, Asteria raised her wand again, searching the entire bathroom for signs of other human life…well, or death. It was beautifully clear of both, to her relief.

* * *

_December 18, 1997._

Everything after that incident did not exactly flow either. The Carrows, unfortunately, were cracking down the whips (sometimes, literally, it was rumored in hushed voices) on the classes, perhaps not as hard on some groups as others, but this hardly seemed to matter to the students.

"You should have seen her today in Muggle Studies," whispered Cora distastefully to them on their way to Transfiguration that Thursday. She took Muggle Studies, unlike all her other classmates. "She was completely rabid…raving about how filthy the animals were and stuff…as if we wouldn't know after her first day here." Her tone was dry. "It's hardly what you'd call educational."

"Defense against the Dark Arts was even worse," piped up Helen, who was determined to prove that she had gotten the worse blow. "I don't get how they expect us to not fail our O.W.L.S. completely this year."

"I think that's the point," said Nadine solemnly, fingering the ring Trent had given her half-heartedly seriously as she pondered. "They're jealous of how smart we are, so they try to sabotage us."

The girls laughed, but only anxiously and with furtive glances all around the halls. Asteria herself could feel the Transfiguration wand-movements slipping from her mind unconsciously as Alecto Carrow wheezed by them, jerking an indignant pink-faced boy by the ear.

Students gaped and stopped where they stood, people ramming into each other's unmoving forms to stare. Asteria's eyes widened slowly; she recognized the boy from somewhere a long time ago. She had seen him everywhere around the halls, true, but somewhere back, she had stopped, maybe to talk to him, maybe it was just someone else-

Then she got it. "The Yule Ball," she said quietly, recalling when Malfoy had steered them at insanely uncomfortable speeds around the Christmas-decorated Great Hall when she had only been in fourth year. He had also stopped them to sneer at Neville Longbottom and a redheaded girl, Ginny-

"And Weasley," said Nadine in a sort of strangled voice as they watched a girl storm through the corridors and demand some sort of "justice". Asteria could have laughed; how thick did you have to be? Although it was sort of clever for Genevra Weasley to stage her courageous and martyring confrontation in public, she had to admit…even though that probably hadn't been the girl's plan, but-

"We're going to be late," said Helen nervously, plucking on the others' sleeves as they watched cautiously from afar. "It's not like we care about some measly Gryffindors trying to show off, right? Come _on_…" Her voice rose slightly.

"Coming," answered Asteria guiltily, straightening fluidly in an effort to regain her composure. She half-wanted to witness the confrontation, and half-wanted to escape the scene. Funnily enough, being late to class hardly counted as one of the things she was worried about right now.

Well, not that much. She quickly gathered her things and left before anything could turn even nastier. No point in being available for blame.

But Transfiguration didn't go so well. Halfway through, a sort of wild screaming erupted from a classroom apparently two floors down, and Asteria's quill jerked to a stop on the second paragraph of her explanation on why Transfigured items were more theoretically more unstable in form than the originals of that shape.

Professor McGonagall looked up sharply from her lesson plan parchment, her glasses quivering in rage on the bridge of her nose. Asteria tensed, ready for an outburst. But that didn't happen. Instead, McGonagall calmly shut her book and set aside her papers, stood curtly from her desk, and imperiously announced to the class, "I will be back shortly, and I expect you to behave yourselves as always in my absence." And then she left the room.

Asteria frowned, staring after the suddenly teacher-less Transfiguration classroom's door, feeling anxious of what the professor was aiming to do. No doubt the Carrows had done _something_ to someone, but what was McGonagall going to do about it? The thought made her nervous for the old teacher.

Ten minutes of dreaded silence passed, and the entire room breathed out in unspoken and pure relief when Professor McGonagall returned just as calmly, although a vein in her neck was pulsing a bit more.

"Very well," she said brusquely, sitting back down as if nothing had happened. "Ten points to Slytherin for excellent classroom behavior without a teacher's presence. Continue with your essays. I expect them by the end of class."

And so class went on.

But over time these strange screams in the middle of classes became more and more frequent, and more than once Asteria could have sworn she had heard an uncontrolled and gleeful cackling outburst following these moments, but they didn't happen each day, and she did not experience firsthand what these were until about two months later. The Carrows had really gotten daring by then.

"I hate Herbology," breathed Nadine mutinously as they sat in dread at the greenhouse table, watching as Professor Sprout, with her back turned, arranged some sort of creeping black plant that kept shooting out splotchy green ooze.

"You just suck at it," retorted Bailey, who had received all zeroes in Herbology just the past week.

The other girls snickered, but quickly sobered up when Sprout triumphantly raised two large pots, setting the black plant before them.

"You know the procedure by now!" she called out, folding her hands. "Sort out the reusable seeds and separate the different-"

"Sprouty, is it?" snarled a sudden voice, as the door to the greenhouses abruptly slammed violently open.

All eyes turned to look, and Asteria stiffened when she saw Amycus Carrow, a maniacal gleam in his eyes and a student clutched tightly in his right hand. She recognized the Hufflepuff boy who she had always clashed with over teacher flattery and for a moment felt perplexed. His fellow Housemates gasped in terror and rage, but no one got up to openly protest.

Professor Sprout started, but compensated by wiping her trembling hands on a rage very slowly. "Yes?" she answered, looking appalled and even a bit disgusted. The boy Amycus Carrow was grabbing winced at something painful.

Carrow grinned, showing sharp, yellowing teeth. "This fella…" He shook the student, who cried out before gritting his teeth. "He decided to be late to this class, Professor. Wanted to play hooky, see…I just took him over-"

The boy made a sort of fearful and hateful noise, and Carrow jerked him even more as Professor Sprout motioned wildly for her wand.

"I was just released from the hospital wing!" he shouted, attempting to break for it. "Don't believe me, ask Madame Pomfrey, she let me go herself just no-"

And suddenly Asteria felt sure that her eyes were showing something different. Because for the first time she had ever seen, there was openly illegal magic being conducted in front of her. In front of a Hogwarts teacher and a dozen other students, which couldn't be right, could it-

Carrow's face had contorted in rage for a second, and now he was grabbing for his wand, aiming it without hesitation at the bewildered and stricken Hufflepuff boy, and now he was shouting something, although the shouts and screams from the girls around Asteria made it hard to hear what it could be-

"That enough for filth?" he was wheezing in a high voice over the panicked commotion of the watching students, who were now trying to scramble as far away from the scene as possible, slicing his wand all over the place. "Teach ya to never talk back to us Carrows, eh? Crucio! Ya hear that, see what I can do to misbehavin' kids like you? Crucio! _Cruci_-"

"Enough, Amycus!" Professor Sprout was commanding, striding forward and disarming the lumpy man with a nonverbal choice. "We don't do-do-" Her voice shook. "No-no torture here at Hogwarts. We are a civil school. Let us hear Mister Riley out, shall we?" She bent down to meet the groaning boy's eye level. He was still convulsing in agony on the floor, and Asteria felt a bit faint.

They began to mutter something, and gradually Carrow joined in, looking more and more furious by the second.

"Detention?" he spat, looking murderous as he approached the Herbology teacher, and for a moment Asteria had the terrible feeling that Professor Sprout would be knocked dead to the floor. "What good is detention for stupid wandering kids like this? He was-he was…I dunno, wandering the grounds without a teacher's excuse, how was I supposed to know where he was up from-"

"It was in my p-pocket," choked the Hufflepuff boy, who had subsided a little.

Carrow completely ignored him, choosing to continue ranting at a determinedly untouched Professor Sprout. "And I've seen enough of this school to know what I don't like around here, _Sprouty_. All ya stupid ways of punishing kids, now I say we give them a good dose of what the world out there is really like, real consequences that are going to be coming, if you know what I mean."

"No, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," said Sprout defiantly, to Asteria's horror.

"Don't you?" Amycus Carrow grinned wickedly, approaching the table where Sarah Baker sat with only the round-faced boy from her House; the majority of her other Housemates had been Muggle-born. "Well, you'll get to know soon enough, eh, Sprouty? Me and my sis, us around here…we're going to be making some changes here. And Snape's going to help us," he added on further reflection. "And the Dark Lord…well, I don't want to ruin any spoilers, but when he's done with what he's doing outside this place…well, let's just say there's going to be no more filth." And still grinning, he turned slowly to face Asteria and Nadine where they sat. "Little Greengrass knows what I mean, don't you?"

All other eyes turned to Asteria, and she felt her breath begin to trickle away from her throat bit by bit. "Um, well, I, I don't know what to say," she stammered, hoping it was a safe answer for everyone.

To her relief, there were no murderous glares from anyone in the greenhouse. Carrow plodded on with his raggedy, crude speech as if she hadn't responded at all, which she took as a relatively good sign, considering what could have happened.

"Her daddy works in the Ministry," he informed a steadily angering Professor Spout with a malicious cackle. "Doing pretty well in our family tree 'spection unit, though don't see why he won't accept the credit, since the Dark Lord's gonna be huge soon. We're doing great stuff, here, weeding out trash like this." He spat at the Hufflepuff boy still huddled on the ground. "Don't see why you teachers are so touchy about dumb stock like this…just a little half-blood, if you ask me."

There was a huge pause as Amycus Carrow stood hunched there, panting from his talk, and as Professor Sprout surveyed her surroundings, looking miserable.

"He'll…he'll need the hospital wing," she finally said, looking around the room. "May I…Miss…Miss Baker? I'd like you to take Mr. Riley here to visit the hospital wing just in case-"

"Sorry?" cackled Carrow disbelievingly, sounding anything but apologetic. "And wander off again who-knows-where? What d'you think we are, stupid? We're not going to buy none of your rebellion plots. Dolores had the right idea, separating the troublesome from the troublesome, f'you ask me…Greengrass, right there. Take this filth up there for poor Sprouty."

Asteria flushed, not liking the attention this was creating. She avoided Sarah Baker, who was still half-standing with her mouth open, Professor Sprout, who looked frantic, and Amycus Carrow, who was leering at her. "I'd be delighted to," she said clearly, feeling something nasty swell up inside her. Not as if she could say anything else…

Carefully, she rose from her bench, heard her friends' distraught gasps distinctly behind her which made her feel slightly better, and made her way over to a suspicious-looking Riley who had now gotten up but was still staggering against the wall. His eyes were narrowed.

"Well?" she heard herself say contemptuously. "The door's right there." Asteria watched Riley slink out, and she followed, not feeling any better when the door closed behind them; greenhouses were made of glass, after all.

Neither of them spoke a word until they were safe inside the walls of the castle, and Asteria's shoulders fell slightly in relief. Riley, however, was reaching for his wand.

"Get away from me," he shot at her, scrambling back.

"Put your wand away," she said with disgust.

Riley laughed. "You really think I'd do that?" he said. "That's a bit daft of you, isn't it? Oh wait…that is your name. Daphne or something?"

Asteria threw her chin up haughtily. "That's my sister's name," she said coldly. "I'm Asteria. It's too bad you can't make some dumb pun off of that, hm?"

The boy looked lost for a moment. Then he looked incredulous again. "What a stupid name," he sneered, but Riley did lower his wand to his side.

Asteria couldn't believe this. She had almost just been cursed by a Hufflepuff, and now she was having her name being made fun of in the next. There was a bit of difference between the two. She decided to take advantage of the less of two evils, the attack of her name; besides, it was a topic she was used to defending, courtesy of small mean children. "It's the name of a Titaness in ancient Greek mythology," she said delicately.

"Yeah?" taunted Riley. "What did she do, get blown up?"

"No, actually," said Asteria seriously, thinking. "She turned into a quail, see."

Riley was frowning as if he wasn't sure what to think. Apparently he had not studied the ancient stories. "Why?" And to Asteria's glee, he sounded genuinely curious and had seemingly forgotten about his earlier urge to curse her.

Asteria smiled casually and strolled in the direction of the hospital wing, pleased when she heard footsteps following her. "Oh, well," she said vaguely. "Zeus tried to rape her so she had to get away, didn't she?" Before he could seize that, Asteria continued hastily. "My sister Daphne was named after a nymph who turned into a laurel tree to escape Apollo. Apparently our parents found it highly amusing to name us after these kind of characters…"

"Ah." Riley plodded along, silent now. "Well," he said awkwardly after a while. "My first name is Eric, in case, you know, since you've introduced your first name, and well, I thought we might as well be on even ground, kind of, you know."

"Yeah?" said Asteria snidely, unsure of what to make of this former nasty person who was now offering to be "friends" after the simple introduction of first names. Apparently that could do a lot, she pondered. "Thank you. I…appreciate it."

They walked on for a bit after that, gradually approaching the hospital wing. Then Riley spoke up again.

"Oh, and I'm sorry for calling your name stupid," he coughed pointedly, not looking at her. "It actually has a bit of interesting stuff behind it. And uh, I never was actually going to curse you or anything. I just felt…sort of embarrassed, I guess, having to be guarded by you and stuff."

The girl nodded sagaciously in understanding, but Riley plowed on.

"And I never really meant that you were a bad suck-up," he was saying sulkily. "I was just, you know, finding an excuse to say mean stuff to a Slytherin. In fact," he went on. "I'm also sorry that I ever said your House was stinking. I should befriend some more people there…like Draco Malfoy," he said before Asteria could react. "He shouldn't be so bad if you weren't-"

"Malfoy?" said Asteria haughtily, folding her arms. Why did Malfoy always have to crop up everywhere? She couldn't enjoy her first ride on the Hogwarts Express without having him accompany Daphne into the compartment, couldn't experience her first year without hearing him moaning to his fan club around every corner, she couldn't just go on with everything without him always either getting injured or tragically hurt, she couldn't even take a bath the other day, for Merlin's sake, without another of his _nonliving_ fan club disturbing her about him…and now she couldn't even make peace with her first rival without him turning up in the conversation.

"Who cares about him?" she said in irritation, gliding a little faster. "I get it. Truce, agreement, no more hard feelings, I understand. Leave Malfoy out of it, will you? I've already got him everywhere in my life without you of all people having to mention him too. But thank you for offering…" Asteria shook her head to clear it a little. "Come on, we're almost there now anyway…"

* * *

_A/N: So, my friends (**and haters**), apparently last time FF was encountering technical difficulties for, like, two entire days and I just happened to update right before it happened (**lucky me**). So obviously no one could review for ages and well, the strange thing is that no one reviewed for ages after that thingy was cleared up (**funny**...). Okay, okay, so maybe I just sucked in the last update and that was why ( **yeah right**). But I (**as the author**) doubt it. And I as an author obviously (_**obviously**_), in an attempt to know what readers (**I realize I'm being a bit liberal with the plural term...judging from the barely plural number of **_**reviews**_**..**.) think of how the plot is running, (**and sooo totally not just to just bulk up on reviews or anything**) would encourage (**Imperio**) you to give this as well as the previous (**neglected...sob, sob, sob**) chapter a random little review. Just a quick click (**you hear that, you lazy bums?**) does it, so of course I'd worship you like Pansy worships Malfoy is you did just that. Or heck, even if you did just this chapter! But I mean, hey, I know I've been really (**oh, yeah**) er, passionate about this review thing, but I mean, we're all friends (**and haters**) here, right? I mean, if you actually got this far in the story, right? So even if you just decide to not review (**CRU****CIO!!!**), I completely understand (**not**.), so again, if you happen to decide to (**sign your own death contract**) not review, you can just (**go screw yourself**) take my blessing to live a long, productive, and reviewful life. Thank you._


End file.
